


Honey and Magic

by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Matilda - Roald Dahl
Genre: Gen, Hufflepuff Matilda, Matilda at Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustARatherVerySillyWriter/pseuds/JustARatherVerySillyWriter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Squirrel/pseuds/White_Squirrel
Summary: Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.
Comments: 51
Kudos: 320
Collections: Clever Crossovers & Fantastic Fusions





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Super Carlin Brothers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Super+Carlin+Brothers).



> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, and Matilda belongs to Roald Dahl…or maybe his estate? I didn’t bother to look it up.
> 
> Part of this chapter is quoted from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
> 
> This story was written for the Super Carlin Brothers’ “Celebrate Your Fandom” week. Big thanks to my co-author, DaughteroftheOneTrueKing aka JustARatherVerySillyWriter, for helping to make this story a reality.
> 
> I’ve wanted to write a Harry Potter/Matilda crossover for a while. I’d like to see a full-length story, but I don’t think I’m the one to do that. I finally found a good idea for a novella, though, and we decided to write it up.  
> The story here is that Matilda Honey (formerly Matilda Wormwood) from the Roald Dahl story is a witch and (obviously) goes to Hogwarts. Based on the publication date of the book, she arrives in Harry’s fourth year, and hilarity ensues.
> 
> Note that while I’m setting this in Britain like the book, this story will otherwise be based on the movie, since that has more magic in it and is better in my opinion. As a novella-length story, this will most be the highlights of Matilda’s time at Hogwarts. If anyone wants to fill in the gaps and expand it into something full-length, be our guest.

“Good evening, miss,” Minerva greeted the woman who answered the door. She had a kind, cheerful face, and Minerva hoped this would be easier than some of the other muggle-borns. “Is this the residence of Matilda Honey?”

“Yes, it is,” she replied. “I’m her mother, Jennifer.”

“Pleasure,” Minerva said, shaking her hand. “I’ll get right to it, Mrs. Honey—”

“Miss,” she corrected.

“… _Miss_ Honey. My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I represent an exclusive boarding school in Scotland. We would like to offer Matilda a place—”

Then, to her surprise, Miss Honey gave an indulgent sigh and said, “We thank you for your interest, Ms. McGonagall, but Matilda’s already decided where she’s going to school this year.”

Ah. One of _those_. “And I’m sure it’s a fine school. However, our program is very unique, and I think you would be interested if you took a look.”

Miss Honey looked like she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes, of all things. “With all due respect, madam, that’s what they all say,” she replied.

Minerva stared. “Excuse me?”

“I know with Matilda’s grades, every school in the country is interested in her, but we’ve already made our decision. In fact, she would have been quite happy staying here at Crunchem Hall, but when she was offered a scholarship to Roedean to do her sixth form, we couldn’t very well say no.”

What? Somehow, none of that made sense to Minerva. Could she have the wrong family? She tried to pick it apart and seized on one inconsistency: “Sixth form? Isn’t that for sixteen-year-olds?”

Miss Honey stopped cold, her mouth hanging half open. She regarded Minerva carefully and finally said, “What school are you from?”

Damn, that was a suspicious question to ask in the muggle world, wasn’t it. Now, Minerva sighed: “This is going to sound very strange, Miss Honey, but I would urge you to think back: have any strange and unexplainable occurrences ever happened around your daughter?”

The woman’s eyes widened with immediate recognition, and she tensed—not frightened, but perhaps wary. “How do you know about that?” she demanded. “Not many people do, and most of them are _not_ people I want to hear from.”

Oh, Merlin, this was going to be a massive headache, wasn’t it? “Oh, so you _do_ know,” she said. “I apologise if you have had bad experiences with some of my peers, but I hope you’ll understand that we’re not all like that.”

“What?” Miss Honey said in utter bewilderment.

“Other witches and wizards?” No recognition at all. “Miss Honey, I am the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And I know about your daughter because she’s like me—and my students—Matilda is a witch.”

She stared a few moments longer and said, “Come in, then, Ms. McGonagall.”

Minerva walked inside and took a brief look around. It was a large house, isolated on the outskirts of town—not quite a manor, but still a place she would have expected to see a well-off older gentleman living, more so than a young, apparently single mother. The only sign of such, though, was an old portrait hanging over the fireplace. Still, the interior very much looked lived-in. Despite its size, it was cosy, with many books lining the walls plus artwork and what she gathered were muggle scientific posters, and dolls and stuffed animals scattered around the room.

“Matilda, come down, please. We have company,” Miss Honey called up the stairs, a slight quaver in her voice.

Moments later, a young girl bounded down the stairs. Well, she was the right age, at least—not quite eleven years old. She looked much like any other muggle-born girl, wearing a fashionable muggle dress and a red hair ribbon—except for the eyes. Minerva could see at once the spark of intelligence in those eyes—a spark she normally saw…well, in Albus. _Perhaps_ in Miss Granger.

“Who is it, Jenny?” Matilda said as she hopped into the room.

 _Jenny?_ Minerva raised an eyebrow at the elder Miss Honey, but she ignored her. “This is Ms. McGonagall, Matilda,” she said. “She’s Deputy Headmistress of a Scottish boarding school.”

“Oh,” the girl said in surprise. “Thank you for coming, Ms. McGonagall, but Jenny must have told you I’m going to Roedean this autumn.” She recited it like someone who had had to say it several times before.

“I did,” Jenny said, “but Ms. McGonagall had something to say that I thought would be worth hearing out.” She looked to Minerva, prompting her to speak.

She cleared her throat and said, “Miss Honey,” and then to avoid confusion, she added, “Matilda. I work at a school that is specifically dedicated to teaching children like you. I work at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Young Matilda gasped in surprise, and she was much quicker on the uptake than her mother because she immediately said, “You mean there are more people like me?”

“There are, indeed. A whole community of us. But you seem remarkably familiar with magic for not having known about us.”

“Well I never knew that’s what I was doing, Ms. McGonagall—magic, I mean. We always just thought I was born with a superpower or something.” She grinned: “I’ve thought about becoming a superhero, but Jenny says I have to be eighteen to do that.”

“Ah…Well, unfortunately, we have rather strict laws about magic being kept secret from the rest of the world. For safety’s sake. Incidentally—” she turned back to Jenny. “Who else knows?”

Jenny thought for a moment. “Her friend Lavender is the only one who knows the whole story. A couple of her other friends have figured out hints about it, plus her birth family…and my aunt if she ever figured out it wasn’t a vengeful ghost after her.”

Minerva was once again lost, somewhere between “birth family” and “vengeful ghost.” That explained a few things, but raised twice as many questions. But she maintained her composure this time. “That should be fine, then,” she said, “but you should not tell anyone else about magic. Our cover story is that Hogwarts is merely a school for gifted children, which it sounds like Matilda is. For tonight, however, I am here to tell the two of you about our school and introduce you to the magical world.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Matilda said excitedly, but then she looked to Jenny expectantly.

Jenny smiled: “It’s your decision, Matilda, and we should at least hear Ms. McGonagall out.”

“Great! I’ll take notes.” Then, Matilda pointed her finger, and at once, a notebook and pencil leapt up from a table and flew across the room to her hand.

Minerva staggered back in shock, her hand clutched to her chest. Matilda looked up at her as if it weren’t unusual at all.

“What?” she asked.

* * *

Later, Minerva related the incident to Professor Flitwick. “I’m telling you, Filius: silent, wandless magic like I’ve never seen in a first-year student,” she insisted. “I’ve seen Albus do that sort of thing, but never a child. And what’s more, she claims she’s been able to do that since she was six years old!”

“Galloping gargoyles!” Filius squeaked. “I’ve heard rumours of powers like that on the duelling circuit. Certainly, some duellists are very skilled with wandless magic, but I’ve never heard corroboration for a child that young.”

“Nor have I,” Albus agreed, looking thoughtful. “Did the young Miss Honey happen to say what she uses her magic for?” he asked lightly.

“Not exactly,” Minerva said. “I gather there was some kind of fight with her mother’s aunt. I didn’t pry, but from the way her mother—Jennifer—talked about her aunt, it sounds like the aunt was dangerous, perhaps violent. And there might have been some magic involved with her separation from her birth family.”

That had been a surprise. There was something wrong about a little girl saying so calmly, “My dad got busted for selling stolen cars, so the rest of my family ran away to Spain.”

“But both of those incidents were some time ago?” Albus said.

“It sounded like it. According to them, she just uses it for fun, now.”

“There are worse things,” Filius said with a chuckle.

But Severus chose that moment to cut in: “And yet, I’m sure she’ll find a way to be supremely obnoxious all the same.”

Filius put his hands on his hips. “Really, Severus! You haven’t even met her.”

“I don’t need to. From Minerva’s description, she sounds like an even more insufferable version of Granger.”

“Who is a pleasure to have in class,” he insisted.

“Well, you’ll have plenty of opportunity,” Minerva told her colleague. “Ravenclaw for sure, that one.”

* * *

Matilda Honey was still trying to use her powers—scratch that, her _magic_ —to wring out her robes from the pouring rain (which would have been easier if she weren’t still wearing them) when Professor McGonagall led her and her fellow first-years into the Great Hall. As soon as she saw it, she was distracted from her work and the funny looks the other first-years were giving her. This was absolutely brilliant. It was like walking into a fairy tale. Even after Diagon Alley, she was awestruck at the magnificence of Hogwarts. The Hall was like she’d imagined the great mead hall in _Beowulf_ , only more so. Candles floated over their heads like twinkling stars, and in the ceiling, lightning flashed and rain fell as if it were open to the sky, and yet nothing reached the floor.

Witches and wizards in black robes lined long tables with golden plates while ghosts floated by overhead. At the Head Table sat a line of teachers in more colourful robes. Matilda picked out the long-bearded figure of Albus Dumbledore at once, sitting in the centre of the table in dark green robes covered with moons and stars, gazing up at the sky with his fingertips pressed together like Sherlock Holmes. As they approached, he looked down, and his eyes swept over the first-years. She could have sworn he winked at her.

Whatever she was expecting for the Sorting Ceremony, though, it wasn’t…this. A singing hat that could read minds. There were some very weird things in the magical world.

 _“When I call out your name, you will put on the Hat and sit on the stool,”_ Professor McGonagall said. _“When the Hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table._

_“Ackerley, Stewart!”_

Matilda wondered which House she would go to. She’d read about the histories of the Houses, and she honestly wasn’t sure which one she liked best. (Although Slytherin seemed to have some serious reputation problems.) And as confident as she’d felt coming in, she couldn’t help feeling a bit nervous now.

Finally, Professor McGonagall got down to “Honey, Matilda!” on the roll. Matilda stepped forward as dignified as she could manage and walked to the stool, where she picked up the Hat and sat down. When she placed it on her head, the oversize brim sank down over her eyes so that she could see only darkness. She didn’t know if the Hat would talk to her or just decide, but sure enough, she heard a small voice that seemed almost to come from inside her head.

“Interesting. _Very_ interesting. And deceptively difficult,” it said. “Intellect that would make Rowena herself proud, but plenty of courage, too. And cunning, yes, but cunning in the service of justice. Some of your past exploits…” It seemed to laugh. “Oh, you’ll be a fun one; I can tell.”

 _It really can read minds_ , she thought.

“Of course I can,” it said. “I wouldn’t be much use otherwise, would I? But where to put you?”

Matilda wasn’t sure if the Hat was trying to prompt her or just thinking out loud, but she didn’t know any better than it did, so she didn’t say anything.

“Not Slytherin, I think. You’re cunning enough for Slytherin, but I fear they wouldn’t survive you.”

“What? What do you mean? I don’t hurt people or anything,” she protested.

“No, not hurt people, exactly, but Slytherin isn’t the most tolerant place. What you _would_ do faced with them, and how they would escalate? It would turn the whole house on its head. No, in another time, perhaps, but not now.”

She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that, but there was nothing she could do about it. The Hat took its time considering, sometimes muttering to itself things she couldn’t quite hear. “My first impulse was to put you in Ravenclaw, you know,” it continued after a time. “You’re more than intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, and wise beyond your years, _and_ you value knowledge for knowledge’s sake. But that isn’t your only quality, and, I think, not your strongest one. If you want Ravenclaw, I’ll send you there, but I think you’re worth further consideration.”

“I don’t really know what I want, yet,” Matilda whispered.

“That’s wise. It can be difficult sometimes, Sorting children so young. But needs must. Now, Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. That’s the question. As brilliant as you are, those are where your strongest qualities lie. Hmm…still very difficult. For Gryffindor, you have more courage than you know what to do with and quite the mischievous streak, and though I shudder to place you in the same house with the Weasley twins, you would do well there.”

“Who are the Weasley twins?” she asked.

“The redheaded twins at the Gryffindor table. They’re the greatest pranksters in this school, and you would only add fuel to their fire.”

Well, _that_ didn’t sound very nice. “I only prank people who deserve it,” she insisted.

The Hat chuckled. “True, true. And that’s the Hufflepuff in you. You never shy away from confronting injustice. Your loyalty to your friends, your sense of fair play, your self-dedication—all of these would mark you for Hufflepuff. In fact, I daresay Hufflepuff could use more people like you.”

“Why is that?”

She thought she heard a sigh. “Too often, Hufflepuff is seen as the least of the Houses, lacking in the qualities of the others. Sometimes, they themselves fail to recognise their rich history. People like you or like Mr. Diggory can show them how to excel through the values of Hufflepuff.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Oh, Hufflepuff is all well and good, but I don’t know if it’s best the place for you. You could be the champion of this school in Gryffindor, you know—a champion in a broader sense than the tournament you’ll hear about in a few minutes. Power and glory equal to the Headmaster himself.”

Now the Hat was _definitely_ prompting her, but Matilda didn’t take the bait. In fact, the idea made her vaguely uncomfortable. “But I don’t _need_ to be a Gryffindor for that, do I?” she said. “Besides, I…I don’t want to be a champion like that. I just want to be me. I want to make friends and learn magic and have a good time like I did at Crunchem Hall.”

The Hat paused. “Ah, interesting. Very well. If that is your desire, you’d better be… _HUFFLEPUFF!_ ”

Matilda jumped as it shouted the last word to the Hall. She pulled the Hat off her head, and her awareness came back to her as she was greeted by the thunderous applause of the school. Although she heard a couple of students shouting, “Finally!” It was only then that she realised that she’d been sitting under the Hat had longer than anyone else. Handing the Hat to Professor McGonagall, she made her way to the Hufflepuff table, where some of the students had already made a gap for her to sit.

No one spoke as the Sorting continued, and a few more people joined them at the Hufflepuff table, including Laura Madley and Kevin Whitby.

“I’m so glad I’m in Hufflepuff,” Kevin breathed in relief as he sat down, the last student to be Sorted. “I know I couldn’t manage in Ravenclaw.”

“As long as it wasn’t Slytherin, I’m happy anywhere,” said Laura, grinning at everyone. They all went silent, however, as Professor Dumbledore sat up from the staff table and addressed the crowd.

 _“I have only two words to say to you all,”_ he said. “ _Tuck in!_ _”_

In that moment, Matilda watched in awe as the dishes and pitchers all along the tables filled with food and drink. Everyone quickly began to fill their plates and goblets. Matilda followed suit, grabbing some ham, potatoes, an ear of corn, and a roll.

The next few minutes were filled by the sounds of everyone happily eating. It was only interrupted when an older boy near her said, “Wow, a Hatstall, huh?”

“A what?” Matilda didn’t know what that meant, though she was starting to get used to that feeling.

“When the Sorting Hat takes more than five minutes to Sort someone, it’s called a Hatstall,” the older boy explained. “They’re really rare. They’re supposed to only happen once every fifty years or so.”

“Professor McGonagall was one,” an older girl beside the boy said. “I’m Beatrice Haywood, by the way. I’m the Head Girl this year,” she introduced herself, “and this is Cedric. He’s a prefect.” She gestured to the older boy. “We’ve been friends since basically forever.”

“Yeah, we met my first year when…” Cedric started, and then he trailed off. “Well, some bad stuff happened. Beatrice helped catch the one who did it.”

“You helped too,” she said.

“Sure, but you were a lot closer to Maya. She was the one who really solved the mystery.”

Matilda had no idea what they were talking about, so she said, “Is it bad to be a Hatstall?”

With a small laugh, Beatrice said, “Oh, no. Didn’t mean to worry you. It just means your personality is evenly balanced between the Houses, and the Hat had a hard time deciding for you. There’s nothing wrong with being a Hatstall, and it’s actually becoming more common.”

Matilda was relieved. She didn’t need a bad omen over her head on her very first day at school.

“I think I was nearly a Hatstall just now,” said Laura, spearing a few green beans onto her fork. “It wanted to send me to Ravenclaw, but decided I fit over in Hufflepuff more.” She shrugged.

Matilda was relieved to hear that someone else had almost been a Hatstall as she was. “The Hat thought I could fit into each House, really,” she explained. “It seriously considered Gryffindor, but it eventually decided that…” She didn’t know how she could fully explain the Hat’s decision. “It decided that Hufflepuff was the place where I could just be myself.”

Beatrice grinned. “Ooh, we got you over Gryffindor? Lucky decision, then. Hufflepuff is really a great House, despite everyone thinking we’re just pushovers. Of course, Cedric always puts in a good showing in Quidditch.”

“You play Quidditch?” Laura asked. “That’s so cool! I’ve been to a few Arrows matches, and my family went to the Quidditch World Cup last week.”

Cedric’s stiffened. “You were at the World Cup?” Cedric said, suddenly concerned. “Were you okay?”

Laura’s smile vanished. “Er, yeah. We were at the far end of the campground from the attack. We got out before things got bad.”

Everyone nodded solemnly, seemingly understanding, but Matilda just looked around in confusion. There was an attack at a sporting match? “What happened?” she asked.

Laura turned to her in surprise. “Didn’t you hear about the attack at the World Cup?”

She shook her head: “I live in the muggle world. I’m still learning.”

“Oh,” Cedric said awkwardly. “So, after the championship, some dark wizards attacked the campground. They scared a lot of people, and they hurt some muggles, but luckily, no one was killed. My Dad works for the Ministry, so he was running around all night cleaning up, though.”

“They were followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” Eleanor Branstone spoke up nervously. “Mum and Dad say they haven’t done anything like that since before I was born.”

“But you don’t need to worry about that here,” Cedric assured them. “Professor Dumbledore is really good about protecting the students.”

Matilda had a feeling they weren’t telling the full story, but before she could ask anything else, Laura said, “This is depressing. Cedric! What position do you play?”

Cedric laughed in response, saying, “I play Seeker—and I guess I’m okay.”

Beatrice gaped. “Okay? You beat Harry Potter last year in a match!”

Cedric gave her an annoyed look. “Bea, you know that was a total fluke, and in a game without those Dementors there, he would have beaten me.”

Beatrice shook her head. “The man never gives himself any credit.”

“What are Dementors?” Matilda asked.

All of the non-first-years frowned except for Beatrice who looked oddly amused. “You sure know how to pick out dark topics, Honey,” she said.

“Bea, don’t scare the firstie,” Cedric said in an exasperated voice.

“Okay, okay,” she told him before turning back to Matilda. “All you need to know is that Dementors are dark spirits that guard the wizard prison, Azkaban. They suck all the happiness out of the room, so you really don’t want to be near them. We had some guarding the school from a criminal last year.”

There seemed to be an awful lot of dark wizards and creatures wandering around in the magical world, Matilda thought, but no one else seemed to want to talk about it, so she let it go. She could always look things up in the school library. After that, her housemates turned to lighter conversation for the rest of the meal.

Before long, most of the students had finished eating, and Professor Dumbledore stood again to give some start-of-term announcements about things like contraband items and field trips.

“What’s Hogsmeade?” Matilda asked.

“A wizarding village,” Eleanor explained. “Just down the road. I heard that older students are allowed to go sometimes.”

“It’s really great,” Beatrice agreed. “You’ll get to go in third year.”

Dumbledore continued speaking. _“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”_

This announcement set many people to exclaiming in outrage, especially at the nearby Gryffindor table. A pair of red-haired boys seemed to be so furious, they were unable to speak. Nearby, Cedric was also exclaiming, “There’s no Quidditch? That’s crazy!”

Dumbledore held up his hands for silence. _“This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing through the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy. I’m sure you will all enjoy it greatly. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year, Hogwarts—”_

At that moment, however, the doors of the Great Hall were pushed open with a deafening crash, revealing a man standing in the doorway, holding a long staff. Matilda, along with every other student in the Hall, watched as the stranger made his way up to the High Table. As he passed near Matilda’s group, she caught sight of his face and flinched. The only comparison she could think of was that he looked like he’d been run over by a lawnmower. Part of his nose was gone; his mouth seemed to have been slashed wide open at an angle, and his face was so covered in scars that it was hard to guess his age.

The strangest thing, though, was his eye. Matilda was reminded of the Old Man’s eye from “The Tell-Tale Heart.” It was mismatched to the other, electric blue and unnaturally large, and it seemed to dart about in its socket independently, even rolling back in his head. A shiver ran down her spine when it passed over her.

The strange man with the false eye spoke to Professor Dumbledore for a minute before sitting at the High Table, but even as he ate, his eye never ceased warily scanning the Hall.

 _“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody.”_ Dumbledore said, oblivious to the crowd’s mood.

Everyone began to whisper excitedly as they learnt who the man was. Matilda, however, had no idea, and said so: “Who is Moody?”

“He used to be an Auror,” Cedric said. “Er, sort of like a policeman. Best one they had, from what they say. He made a lot of enemies, though, and he’s seen a lot. Got paranoid in his old age, so they made him leave. In fact, I nearly missed the train this morning because my dad had to deal with his security system scaring his muggle neighbours. Apparently he sees everything as an attempt on his life nowadays.”

“I think I might too if I’d seen what he has,” Beatrice remarked, “but he is a bit creepy, isn’t he?”

Matilda wanted to say that it was more than just a bit, but refrained. She watched as Dumbledore continued his announcements. _“As I was saying, we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”_

One of the red-headed boys who had been outraged at the canceling of Quidditch yelled, “YOU’RE JOKING!”

But he was not joking. The Triwizard Tournament, he explained, was a medieval contest between Hogwarts and her rival schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, in which a champion for each school would compete in three dangerous, often deadly tasks.

“People died in this?” Eleanor whispered, staring around nervously. “I never knew that.” Everyone else, however, seemed pretty excited about the prospect of trying to win the competition for Hogwarts. Dumbledore assured everyone that they would ensure that the Tournament was safe this time around, although even so, only students who were of age (which was apparently seventeen) could enter. The winner would get a thousand galleon prize.

Beatrice turned to Cedric: “Hey, Ced, your birthday’s in October. You should enter! I know you could do it.”

He was dubious. “But...I don’t know, Bea. What if I end up looking silly? I’m only a sixth-year.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes: “And you could still kick my arse in a duel. Come on, you’d be better than basically anyone out there.”

Cedric shrugged: “I’ll think about it.”

Dumbledore dismissed them to bed. As the students around her began to stand, Matilda thought over everything that had been said. She was happy with not being able to enter. As cool as it would have been to attempt it, she didn’t want to join a competition where she might end up dead.

Cedric called down the table, “Come on, first years, I’ll show you to the Common Room and dorms.” Standing, Matilda joined Eleanor, Laura, and the other new students as they surrounded Cedric and Beatrice. They were led out of the Great Hall and down a few flights of stairs.

“We’re in the basement,” Beatrice told them. “Right by the kitchens, so it’s warmer than you’d think.” She led them to what appeared to be a wall of barrels. “Pay attention, now. You need to get the rhythm right.” She tapped on one of them five times, and it opened up, revealing a little, round door, which they climbed through.

“Our dorms are in a Hobbit hole?” Matilda said eagerly when she saw the Common Room.

“I guess. Muggle-borns always say that,” Beatrice laughed.

They stepped into a room that…well, looked like it _could_ be a Hobbit hole, and a Hobbit hole meant comfort. It was very cosy, with warm colours and squashy chairs and sofas all around, and most of the fixtures were burnished copper. The windows were portholes high on the walls that would probably be very bright in the day, though the room was now lit by candles and a roaring fireplace. A moving portrait of Helga Hufflepuff was mounted over the fire, curtsying to the new first-years, and the walls were lined with plants all around, some hanging from the ceiling and even two large flower boxes on either side of the door.

"This place is amazing," Matilda marvelled. Around her, her fellow first years were agreeing.

"Alright, everyone!" Beatrice called all the new students to her. "As Head Girl, I want to officially welcome all of you to Hufflepuff House. Professor McGonagall should have told you when you were Sorted that your House is like your family at Hogwarts. Well, that’s especially true in Hufflepuff. Hufflepuffs are trustworthy and loyal, and we take care of our own.

“I know some of you have probably heard some bad things about Hufflepuff. Let me tell you right now they don’t know what they’re talking about. We may not get as many accolades as the other houses, but that’s because we’re not out there climbing over each other to get glory or power or the best marks like them. We hold each other up instead, and we’ve still got plenty of brilliant witches and wizards in our pedigree.”

She motioned to the large tapestry that hung opposite the fireplace. “We’re like our emblem, the badger,” she said. “If you leave us alone, we’ll mind our own business and not cause trouble—”

Cedric snorted. “Pfft. like you’re one to talk,” he said.

“Shut it, you. The point is, like the badger, we mind our own business, but if you cross us, you’re going to regret it. A badger can fight off a full-grown wolf if it has to. Remember that. So if anyone tells you Hufflepuff is a lot of duffers, you can tell them to go—”

“Ahem,” Cedric cleared his throat.

“—jump in the Lake,” she finished. Her hesitation was barely noticeable. Either way, most of the first years laughed, and a few cheered. From her description, Matilda thought she really would fit in well here.

“So, this is the Common Room,” Beatrice concluded. “You'll spend lots of time here. Girls dorms are down the right hallway, and boys to the left. Don't try to go into the other side’s dorms; the hallways won't let you. Now, I'm sure you all want to get some sleep before your first day of classes, so I'll bid you all good night."

Down in the dorm, Matilda doubted she would sleep, and her dorm mates seemed to be in similar moods.

"I was so excited when I found out my parents were letting me come here!" Laura exclaimed as they put some of their things away. "My parents wanted me to go to Castelobruxo. My mum’s family went there. But I convinced them to let me come here." She turned to Matilda, saying, "How about you, Matilda?"

Matilda grinned as she said, "I was about to go to a Muggle secondary school. I'm Muggleborn, you see. I always knew there was something special about me, though. I've been doing magic since I was six years old."

"Wow!" Eleanor marvelled. "I didn't start showing magic until last year, my family thought I was a Squib."

"A Squib?" Matilda questioned.

"Oh, a Squib is a person who's family is magical, but they aren't,” Laura explained. “Basically the opposite of Muggleborns.”

Matilda nodded in understanding. "I didn't realise that happened. That's interesting."

Once they all had gotten their excitement out, they quickly got into bed. Matilda stared at the ceiling for a while, thoughts still zipping around. The day had been so eventful and full of activity. Eventually, however, even she managed to fall asleep, dreaming of the next day and what classes would have in store for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Everyone is born, but not everyone is born the same. Some will grow to be JK Rowling or Roald Dahl. Some will be fanfiction writers like us.
> 
> Parts of this chapter are quoted from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

Matilda’s first week at Hogwarts was like nothing she’d ever done before. Just living in a castle was pretty cool, for starters, although it could be frustrating. Her memory was usually very good, but she still found it hard to find her way around because the whole castle seemed to move when you weren’t looking, and there were little tricks you had to know just to get to class, like jumping the vanishing step on the Grand Staircase.

She never had to deal with any of it alone, though. Eleanor and Laura and her other roommates were friendly, and the prefects were usually happy to help a younger student. All of Hufflepuff, really, since the house prided itself on that.

Probably the biggest surprise about magic (though she had guessed it from reading the books) was that it was a lot more complicated than just pointing at things like she always did at home. In Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration class and Professor Flitwick’s Charms class, they learnt all kinds of theory about magic and how wand movements and incantations affected it. In fact, she found Transfiguration to be quite challenging. In her first lesson, she only got her matchstick turned halfway into a needle, and it felt a lot different from levitating things.

Not all of the classes were as fun. History was taught by a ghost named Professor Binns, which should have been really interesting, but he was so boring that half the class fell asleep, and Matilda had to content herself with reading the book. And Herbology—there was nothing wrong with gardening, but she still thought it was odd that they had a whole class on it.

But the worst was undoubtedly Professor Moody. Everyone complained about Professor Snape, but when she eventually got to Potions class, he was strict and maybe even a little condescending, but he wasn’t _that_ bad. Professor Moody, however, was a nightmare. In all her years in school, Matilda had never met a teacher as scary as Agatha Trunchbull had been (not that Jenny would allow such a thing in her school), but Mad-Eye Moody just might have been her match.

It happened the very first day after classes when people were lining up for dinner in the Entrance Hall. Some of the older boys were shouting at each other, and the first-years started backing away in case it turned into a fight, when suddenly—

_BANG! “OH NO YOU DON’T, LADDIE!”_

Professor Moody was limping down the staircase with his wand out, his peg-leg clunking heavily on the marble, and where one of the three boys had stood, there was now a shivering white _ferret_.

The Entrance Hall fell silent, shocked at what Moody had done. Matilda could only stare, her eyes wide and unblinking.

Moody reached the floor, and the ferret tried to run, but he pointed his wand again. _“I don’t think so!”_ he roared, and suddenly, it flew ten feet in the air before smacking back down against the floor.

Matilda gasped in horror. Images of the Trunchbull throwing her friend Amanda over the fence by her hair flashed through her mind. The ferret flew into the air again and dropped back down, bouncing off the floor and rising again.

“ _No!_ ” she hissed as Moody waved his wand again, and with a twitch of her head, the ferret stopped in midair eight inches above the floor.

_“I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back is—”_ Moody stopped and stared. “Who did that?” he barked.

Everyone started looking around, trying to figure out who could have done it. Belatedly, Matilda realised that the way she was staring at the ferret with her hands at her sides might be suspicious. She’d shown some wandless magic already, but not the full extent of what she could do. She started to pull out her wand to cover for it.

“Don’t try to fool me, lassie,” he said, making her jump. He turned around, and she saw his strange blue eye fixed on her as if he had seen her out the back of his own head. “I know you didn’t have your wand out.” People started whispering around her. “ _She didn’t use her wand?”_ Well, _that_ cat was out of the bag. Moody took a couple of steps toward her and asked, “And who are you?”

“Matilda Honey, Professor,” she said, trying to sound as confident as she could. She didn’t like the look he was giving her. This wasn’t the Trunchbull. This was (according to the older students) a hardened, battle-scarred war veteran, but she’d still try her best to defend herself if she had to.

“Ah, Honey,” he said, pointing his wand her way. “Professor McGonagall mentioned you—”

“Professor Moody!” Like, well, magic, Professor McGonagall herself appeared on the stairs, and whatever he had been about to say was forgotten as she dressed him down. Matilda sighed with relief. At least the people in charge were sensible. McGonagall flicked her wand, and her hold broke as the ferret grew from three pounds to a hundred and fifty. The blond-haired boy stumbled on the floor and muttered darkly about telling his father.

_“Moody, we_ never _use Transfiguration on a student!” said Professor McGonagall weakly. “Surely Professor Dumbledore mentioned that.”_

_“He might’ve mentioned it, yeah,” Moody said, scratching his chin unconcernedly._ “I thought a sharp shock might help him see sense, but Miss Honey here objected to my teaching style.”

“As well she should. Miss Honey, ten points to Hufflepuff for protecting a fellow student. You should be thanking her.” This last was directed to the boy who had been turned into the ferret. There was a tense moment. Malfoy spotted her and narrowed his eyes at her as if she’d been in on it or something. He didn’t seem to be in a thanking mood, but Professor McGonagall was waiting.

He practically snarled. “I don’t need help from a little—”

“Mr. Malfoy!” Professor McGonagall snapped.

He hesitated a fraction. “—firstie.”

“Oh, really?” she said. “I rather think Miss Honey saved you a trip to the Hospital Wing.”

Malfoy had already turned away, however, muttering about Professor Moody, who was soon dragging him off to Professor Snape. Matilda looked around. A lot of people were staring at her. She hadn’t been keeping her wandless abilities a secret, but she also hadn’t wanted to attract this much attention, especially on her first day. The two boys Malfoy had been fighting with looked like she’d just kicked their puppy.

Eleanor tapped her on the shoulder. “C’mon, Matilda, let’s just go to dinner,” she said. Matilda quickly agreed. She was hoping for a quiet meal after that. It wasn’t being the centre of attention so much; it was just that there was so much tension in the room that she didn’t understand yet. 

Things didn’t stay quiet for long, as Justin Finch-Fletchley, an older student, sat down across from her. “Why did you do that, Honey?” he demanded.

She looked up from her plate. He actually looked put out. “What? Help Malfoy?” she said in confusion. “I had to. Professor Moody could’ve hurt him really badly.” She looked to Beatrice and Cedric nearby for support, but they remained silent.

“But it’s _Malfoy_.”

“So?”

“ _So_ , don’t you know who he is?”

“Hey, she’s muggle-born,” Laura defended her. “She doesn’t know all this stuff yet.”

“Well, I’m muggle-born, too, and she needs to know this,” Justin said. “That was Draco Malfoy. His father worked for You-Know-Who. You know who _he_ is, don’t you?” Matilda nodded. “Draco believes all the same rot about purebloods being better. All his friends do, too, and he wants muggle-borns like you and me _dead_. Literally! I heard from Harry Potter that he actually said he wants to see us dead.”

_“Us?”_ she said in surprise.

“Well…mostly Granger,” he admitted. “But he wouldn’t cry over any other muggle-borns, and he definitely wants us out of the school. He talked about it all the time in my second year.”

Some of the older students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Most of the people nearby had started listening in. “You’ve got to learn this stuff quick, Honey,” he said. “It’s not all sparkles and unicorns in the magical world. See, two years ago, I was attacked by a basilisk.” Laura and Eleanor gaped in surprise. “It’s like in the old stories. A basilisk is a bloody huge snake, and it can kill you with its eyes, but if you see its reflection, you’re petrified instead. It’s sort of like being turned to stone—not exactly, but close enough. It took them _five months_ to get the potion to cure it. I missed Christmas—and Easter. Like _that_.” He snapped his fingers. “The next thing I knew, it was the end of May. It took me all of third year to get my marks back up. All because some arse who hated muggle-borns had it in for me, and Malfoy was cheering him on the whole time.”

Matilda stared in horror. Professor McGonagall had never mentioned the darker side of the magical world. She’d read about the war against Voldemort, of course, and that some wizards were bigoted based on blood status, but she couldn’t picture it coming into the school like that. But even so…

“I’m sorry you went through all that, Justin,” she said. “But that’s still no excuse for Moody to hurt Malfoy like that. Professor McGonagall said so, too.”

Cedric tried to defuse the argument: “Look, you haven’t had class with Moody yet. Transfiguring Malfoy like that was kind of over the line, but you’ve got to respect his life’s work. He’s _been_ out there, fighting people like Malfoy’s father. He really _gets it_ , you know?”

Matilda looked around. People were nodding along with Cedric. This might be more complicated than Trunchbull, at least inasmuch as Moody actually had a following. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, then told her own tale. “On my first day of primary school, there was a Year One girl who was wearing pigtails—Amanda Thripp. And before class started, Miss Trunchbull, the Headmistress, went up and told her they were against the uniform policy.”

“Pigtails were?” Cedric asked.

“Yeah, some muggle schools do that,” said Justin.

She nodded. “So, Amanda talked back when Trunchbull told her to get rid of her pigtails, and she went completely insane. She grabbed Amanda by the hair, swung her around, and threw her hammer throw-style.”

“What?”

“But that’s crazy!”

“That’s impossible!”

“I saw it,” Matilda insisted. “She flew all the way over the school fence. It’s lucky she wasn’t really hurt. Trunchbull was in the Olympics—er, world-class muggle athletes. She was really good at it.”

“How old was this girl?” Cedric asked, appalled.

“Year One, so about six years old,” Finch-Fletchley said. “But you’ve _got_ to be making that up, Honey,” he scoffed at her. “No one would do that.”

Matilda glared at him. “That’s what everyone always says, Finch-Fletchley. And that’s exactly how Trunchbull managed to stay Headmistress for so long. And it’s no crazier than turning someone into a ferret, is it? If you don’t believe me, you can ask my mum. She’s the Headmistress now, and she was my teacher at the time. She knows all about it…Anyway, that’s why I don’t like teachers who abuse their students.”

Despite the apparent widespread dislike of Malfoy, no one knew how to answer that, and there was silence until Beatrice Haywood changed the subject. “The better question is _how_ did you do that? I didn’t even see you move.”

Matilda shrugged. “I’ve sort of always been able to, as long as I’ve been able to do magic, anyway. Jenny and I came up with a theory that there was just so much in my brain that I had to have a way to let some of it out, but now we know it’s because I’m a witch. I usually just gesture or point and that makes things move. I didn’t expect it to be that unusual here.”

“Well, it is. Maya couldn’t do it, and she was one of the most brilliant students I’ve ever met,” Beatrice said.

“Cedric, can you do that?” Laura looked earnestly at the older boy.

“A little, but not well enough to react that fast.” Cedric shrugged. “Actually, I think Maya might have been able to do some minor wandless magic, but she still needed her wand for most things.”

To her relief, the conversation quickly turned from Matilda’s abilities to the food, and Matilda pretended to join in. She was still thinking of the incident with Moody, though. She’d like to teach him a lesson, but she had no idea how she could outsmart someone who literally had eyes in the back of his head.

* * *

The next day, Matilda was eating breakfast with Eleanor and Laura when their Head of House, Professor Sprout, came down to the Hufflepuff table. This was evidently a surprise. She had come by yesterday to hand out their class schedules, but from the reactions of the older students, it wasn’t usual for her to be there again.

“Good morning, Miss Honey,” she said as she approached Matilda.

Matilda’s eyebrows rose, not expecting to be singled out like this. Still, she answered politely. “Good morning, Professor Sprout.”

“I wanted to inform you that Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with you during your break today,” she said. “If you would please meet me at the seventh floor stairs after your Charms class, I will escort you to his office.”

Matilda needed a moment to find her voice again. Called to the Headmaster’s office on the second day? She was certain this had something to do with the incident with Professor Moody yesterday. “Um, of course, Professor,” she said.

“Very good. I’ll meet you then, Miss Honey.” Sprout walked on, seemingly oblivious to Matilda’s nervousness. She didn’t know what she would be expected to tell Dumbledore.

“Hey, relax, Matilda.” Beatrice grinned where she was sitting nearby. “Dumbledore’s a good guy; he probably wants to give you House points for saving that troll Malfoy.”

“Professor McGonagall already gave me points, though,” Matilda said.

“Oh, right.” Sensing that she wasn’t helping, Beatrice said, “Hey, don’t worry about it. Maybe you can tell me about it this weekend sometime.”

Matilda smiled. “Thanks, Beatrice. I’d like that.”

Matilda took a breath and continued her breakfast. Whatever happened, she couldn’t let it get to her.

* * *

After Charms class, Matilda made her way to the seventh floor. Professor Sprout was there, and she soon led her to a gargoyle standing in front of a door, where she spoke with an air of formality, “Jelly Slugs.”

Matilda wrinkled her nose. She didn’t know what Jelly Slugs were and wasn’t sure if she wanted to, but apparently, it was a password. The statue stepped aside, revealing a winding staircase.

“Go ahead, Miss Honey,” Professor Sprout said, and she climbed up the stairs.

At the top, there was a large wooden door with a knocker on it. Before she could use it, however, she heard Dumbledore call, “Enter.”

Matilda was taken aback, but figured that, as a very powerful wizard (according to the books she’d read) he could maybe see through doors like Professor Moody. Nevertheless, she opened the door and stepped in. It was a beautiful office—a large, circular room filled with whirring silver devices of unknown description, the walls lined with books and portraits of past Headmasters, and a majestic and very large red-gold bird sat on a perch at one side. She saw Professor Dumbledore sitting at his desk at a high backed chair. “Ah, Miss Honey, welcome. Please, take a seat,” he said kindly. He gestured to another chair before the desk, and she crossed the room and sat.

She had no idea where to start the conversation. “Um, Professor…” she started, and couldn’t finish. “Am I in trouble?

Dumbledore smiled. “Of course not, my dear. I merely wanted to hear your account of what happened with Mr. Malfoy yesterday. Professor McGonagall handled it well, of course, but I confess myself curious about your unusual display of magic prowess.”

Matilda took a deep breath. This wasn’t anything unexpected. She could do this. “Well, I was walking to my dinner with my friends…” She told Dumbledore the entire series of events, ending with, “I just couldn’t sit by when he did that. It was wrong.”

Dumbledore nodded understandingly. “It’s wonderful to see you standing up for students, especially to a man with such a reputation as Professor Moody. He and I have been friends for many years, but we do disagree quite strongly on some things. You may be assured that I have clarified to him that he is not to use such aggressive methods of discipline.”

“Oh,” she said in surprise. “Thank you, sir. That’s good to know.”

“Although I daresay you drew quite a lot of attention to yourself in the act?”

Matilda gave an uncomfortable smile. “Er, yes. That wasn’t really how I wanted to start my year, but I almost couldn’t help it when I saw it happening. It took me back to when I was younger, and people belittled me and tried to hurt my friends.”

Dumbledore leaned forward with a concerned look, listening closely. “You’ve been able to do magic like the display in the Entrance Hall for a while?”

Matilda nodded. “Since I was in Year One.”

“And do you often experience a slip in your control like you did there?”

“No,” she shook her head. “At first, it just sort of happened on its own. I had to practice to learn to control it. It still doesn’t always do _exactly_ what I want, but I haven’t had any loss of control since Jenny adopted me near the end of Year One.”

Dumbledore gazed at her pensively, and Matilda couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. The stories of Dumbledore were all over the books she’d read before coming to Hogwarts. Finally, he said, “I believe that a control loss is unlikely again, but if you would like, I can give you some books about how to control unexpected bursts of magic. There are exercises and the like that I have found helpful, and those who read it have as well.”

Matilda nodded eagerly. “Please, I would be very interested to read that.”

Dumbledore opened a drawer at his desk, and pulled out a small manual. The cover read, _Exercises for the Erratic Witch or Wizard_ by Thilia Monstru. Matilda accepted it from the Headmaster. “This is my personal copy,” he told her. “You may keep it for as long as you need.”

“Thank you, sir.” Matilda was extremely grateful to the Headmaster. “I’ll return it to you as soon as I can.”

“I am glad to offer some help,” he smiled. He then checked his watch, and said, “Oh dear, 

it’s nearly time for your next class. You’d better hurry.”

Matilda noticed he was right, and she scooped up her things and dashed out of his office.

* * *

That weekend, Matilda and Beatrice were in the Common Room, playing a new game Beatrice was teaching her, Exploding Snap, which was a lot like regular Snap, but with more fire. She was surprised to see that Beatrice looked really different when she was out of uniform—more what the older kids at school called a goth look, with a black leather jacket and high-laced boots, but she was friendly, as always. As they played, they talked about her meeting with Dumbledore.

“He gave me a book that might help me keep control when I get upset,” she explained. “But it was weird; it was almost like he knew everything I was going to say, he just wanted to hear what I had to say about it.”

“Well, he’s super-powerful, and very intuitive,” Beatrice explained. “But he’ll never make assumptions.”

Matilda shrugged. “Yeah, it just seemed like he was concerned about my loss of control. He didn’t seem very worried about my early displays of wandless magic when I was younger, although he didn’t ask much about them.”

Beatrice considered this. “Well, if you’re not fully in control of it after you start school, there can be issues, so I can understand why he might say that, but still, wandless magic is really cool. I’m surprised he wasn’t more interested.”

“Maybe it’s not that unusual for Dumbledore,” Cedric spoke up from where he was working on an essay. “He probably knows a lot of people who can do wandless magic.”

“Sure, but he also knows talent when he sees it,” Beatrice replied. “He definitely paid attention to Maya when she was here.”

Cedric snorted. “Yes, but subtlety was never Maya’s strong suit.”

“True, although Matilda’s made a good start at following in her footsteps.”

“I really wasn’t trying to attract attention,” Matilda protested.

“It’s still really cool, though,” said Kevin Whitby as the rest of the Common Room began to listen in on their conversation. She was rather glad there were only about half a dozen people here at the moment. This was starting to get a little uncomfortable.

“I’ve never seen anyone do stuff like that, except for Dumbledore, a little,” said an older boy she didn’t know. “Do you...think you could show us some, Honey?”

Beatrice stood up. “Yeah, why not?” she said. “Alright, kid. Wandless magic: let’s see what you’ve got.”

Matilda hesitated. “I don’t know…”

Beatrice backed off a little. “Look, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” she said, “but it doesn’t have to be a big deal, and everyone already knows you can do it.”

Matilda looked around and saw the eager faces of her housemates. She didn’t want to disappoint them. Laura especially looked eager. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to show off a bit. “Oh, alright,” she said. Looking around for a moment, she pointed at the Exploding Snap cards. The whole pile swept together into a deck and floated into the air, where it began shuffling itself.

Her housemates cheered, and Beatrice and Cedric were flabbergasted for some reason. “Bloody hell! Beatrice exclaimed. “Shuffling, too? I’ve tried wandless magic, and I can barely lift up an object, let alone something like that.”

“This is awesome!” said Kevin. “Can you do other spells, Matilda?”

She shook her head. “No—not yet, anyway. I never really thought of doing anything but levitation.”

“Shuffling cards is more than just levitation,” Cedric pointed out, studying the deck closely.

“It is?” Matilda asked.

“Hm...or else it’s really complicated levitation. You have to move a lot of things individually.”

Matilda called the deck to her hand. “But is it that much harder levitating multiple objects?”

“Well, it depends on what you’re doing with them,” he admitted. “If they’re all doing the same thing like I guess it’s not much harder, but I still wouldn’t use a basic _Wingardium Leviosa_ for that. And you’ve done it since you were six?”

“Yeah, since Year One. It’s just that I’ve never had much trouble with it, even if they’re not doing the same thing.”

“That’s amazing,” Beatrice marvelled. “How many objects _can_ you move at once? _That’s_ got to be harder if there’s a whole lot of them.”

Matilda shook her head. “Not so much—well, not doing _all_ different things, but maybe a dozen different things—moving them in different ways, I mean. I’ve never tested the limits, though.”

“But you can’t focus on that many things at once, can you?” she said.

“Not really. I just start them, and they’ll keep going if I want.”

Suddenly, it clicked into place, and Beatrice’s face lit up. “ _Oh_ , I get it. You’re talking about _enchanting_. Where you start a charm, and it keeps going on its own so you don’t have to keep your wand on it. You’ll learn that in second year for simple things.” Beatrice seemed glad to have understood a part of how Matilda found things so easy. 

“I suppose that’s right,” Matilda agreed. She didn’t know enough about magic yet to dispute it. “It never felt any different from moving things directly once I got the hang of it.”

“Well, I suppose they all fall under the category of movement charms, and when you get good at them, there’s not a whole lot of difference.”

“I guess not,” Matilda agreed.

“Hang on,” Kevin cut in. “You can enchant a whole bunch of things at once, Matilda? Without a wand?” She shrugged and nodded.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” said Laura. “Let’s see it!”

“Okay…” she said. “This looks cooler with music, but…” Matilda waved her arm in a wide arc, and the Exploding Snap cards flew out of her hand, forming a long line that circled around the room. That alone surprised her housemates, but she was just getting started. She looked around and pointed her finger, first at the plants that were hanging from the ceiling, which began spinning around. She pointed to the stationary plants by the windows, and they waved their leaves and branches. Hufflepuff’s portrait and the badger tapestry tilted side to side, and the fire tongs and pokers rattled. Cabinet doors sprang open and moved about.

The other people in the Common Room were awed, but she still wasn’t done. What to do next? She didn’t have any more cards or the like, so she improvised, pointing to every book in sight, levitating them and making them fly in circles, interlacing with the cards.

By now, Laura was gaping like a fish. Kevin was swatting at cards that were flying a little too close for comfort. Beatrice was laughing, looking like she was having the time of her life. 

“Even for enchanting, that’s some amazing control of that many objects,” Cedric said.

Matilda was now slightly embarrassed. “I’m not directly controlling them, though,” she said. “And I don’t really think of it as a spell, either. It’s like I tell them what to do, and they do it.” She spread her arms like she was parting the Red Sea, and everything settled down at once. The books and cards stacked themselves neatly on the tables.

Cedric was still in shock as well. “That was still pretty incredible, Matilda. I mean, you made it look as easy as breathing. Could even Dumbledore do that, Bea? Without a wand, I mean?”

“Oh yeah, he could,” Beatrice said. “I’ve seen him do some pretty amazing stuff…but I think _that_ might take him actual effort.”

* * *

A while later, things had quieted down. Despite the excitement around her previous display, most of Hufflepuff was being characteristically polite and didn’t badger—heh—her about it. 

Matilda was sitting by the fire, reading, when Cedric sat down in the chair next to her. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi, Cedric,” she said.

“So, I didn’t want to ask earlier in case it was personal, but I really have to wonder. How _did_ you start doing magic. I’m guessing you had to start from accidental magic, starting so young, but doing it deliberately is really rare.”

She’d been thinking about that herself off and on ever since Professor McGonagall told her how unusual it was. “Well, Jenny and I are pretty sure it _was_ accidental magic at first,” she said. “At first, it only happened when…well, when people were yelling at me—calling me worthless.”

“Who did that?” Cedric asked.

“The Headmistress of my school, my dad—”

“Your _dad_?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “He always wanted things done _his_ way. It was always—” She put on an exaggerated masculine voice. “ _I’m big, you’re little. I’m right, you’re wrong._ I’m pretty sure the first time I did magic was when Dad ripped up my library book—they all hated reading—and he made me watch this dumb game show on the telly instead…so I blew up the telly.”

Cedric laughed as he imagined the scene, though he looked like he was trying not to. “That sounds like something the Weasley twins would do,” he said. “Did you get in trouble?”

Matilda chuckled. “Dad didn’t even suspect it. He thought the set was faulty because it was stolen because he was too cheap to buy one from the store.”

“Hang on. Your dad hated reading? I thought you said your mum was a teacher.”

“Adopted.” Matilda had gotten used to the fact, but there were still people who acted weird when they found that she was adopted.

Fortunately, Cedric wasn’t one of them. He nodded understandingly, saying, “So how did your family and Headmistress yelling at you help with magic?” 

“It was hard at first. It didn’t seem to work when I tried, but when I remembered them yelling at me like that, it came to me, and pretty soon, I could control it without worrying about that.”

“So you just…learnt to control your accidental magic…and practically as soon as you started doing it, too.”

Matilda shrugged. “It’s never been hard for me. I was doing advanced muggle school-work already, but I don’t know if being good at magic was related or anything. It just seemed like the natural way to do it.”

“Huh, I’ve never really heard anyone talk about it that way,” he said.

* * *

Matilda sighed to herself as she perused the Library’s meagre fiction section.

The Hogwarts Library was brilliant, for the most part. It was very expansive, with books on every aspect of magic you could imagine and a stock equal to many town libraries. Yet for all that, there were only a few shelves of fiction. There were a few volumes of straight tellings of muggles myths and legends without magical commentary. Then, there was a shelf of Chaucer, Malory, Donne, Marlowe, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Milton, Cyrano, Molière, and Bunyan, which seemed to have been arranged chronologically, but nothing else muggle beyond the seventeenth century. There was magical fiction, of course, but she wasn’t sure where to start.

She looked up as she heard someone else approaching. She saw an older girl with bushy hair in Gryffindor robes perusing a shelf, picking one off and adding it to an already high pile nearby. The older girl spotted her. “Oh, hello,” she said. “Do you need some help?”

“Hi,” Matilda greeted, “and maybe. I don’t know anything about magical fiction.”

The older girl smiled and set her books down. Then, she did a double take as she realized who Matilda was. “Oh, I know you. You saved Malfoy when Moody turned him into a ferret.” She chuckled. “Harry and Ron were pretty mad about that, you know, but even Malfoy didn’t deserve that. Anyway, Natalie McDonald’s mentioned you in the Common Room, too. You’re a muggle-born, right?”

Matilda nodded. “That’s right. I’m Matilda Honey.”

She offered her hand, and the older girl shook it. “Hermione Granger. How has your time at Hogwarts been so far?”

Matilda shrugged as she said, “It’s been all right so far. I’ve been attracting a lot more attention than I wanted to do right at the start.”

With a small laugh, Hermione said, “I can imagine. Is it true you can do wandless magic? That’s what Natalie said, but I’ve only read about really powerful witches and wizards like Professor Dumbledore being able to do it.”

“Yeah, I can, although it’s mostly levitation,” Matilda confirmed. “I was surprised when Professor McGonagall said it was a rare skill. It’s always come pretty easily to me. According to Cedric Diggory, I must have learnt to control my accidental magic early on.”

“I didn’t think that was possible.” Hermione seemed impressed.

Matilda chuckled. “It didn’t take long when I started trying.”

Hermione shook her head: “But how did you know you could do it? I never knew I was doing magic. My parents are muggles too, and they said magic was only in stories.”

“I _didn’t_ know I was doing magic. For a long time, I thought it was just like a superpower or something. No one believed me at first. Jenny even tried to convince me I was imagining things, but I knew what I saw and felt. I knew I _wasn’t_ imagining it, so I decided I needed to learn how to use it.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Wow, that’s actually really interesting. I knew I was different since I was seven, but they were always just random incidents, and for most of them, I managed to convince myself it was just my imagination.”

Matilda nodded and turned to the nearby shelf of magical fiction books. “Have you read any of these?” She gestured to them.

“Not many,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Honestly, I didn’t think they were that good.”

Her face fell. “Oh? They’re not?”

“Well, I didn’t think so. The magical world is so small that there are only a few people who can make a living off of writing, there’s not much fiction—modern fiction, anyway—so only a few of those will be classics. What do you like to read?”

Matilda’s face lit up. “Everything!” she exclaimed. “I started walking to the library every day when I was four.” Hermione’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t give her time to respond. “I read maths and science and law and geography, but I _love_ literature—adventure, fantasy, mystery...anything, really. My favourite is _Moby Dick_.” She smiled, remembering the first time she’d read it.

Hermione made a face at her choice of book. “Really? I never cared much for that one.”

“Oh? I can never understand why people say that...What about Charles Dickens?”

“Oh, he’s really good.” Hermione grinned. “I’ve read the classics, of course, but I much prefer things like histories and biographies. Especially coming into the magical world where everything is different. Have you read _Hogwarts, A History?_ ”

“Of course,” Matilda said. “I really enjoyed that one.”

“That one’s _my_ favourite,” Hermione sighed. “Harry and Ron are obstinately against it, however. It’s nice to have someone to talk with about books. Not enough people appreciate a good library—outside Ravenclaw anyway.”

Matilda looked around at the other rows of shelves. “It _is_ a nice library,” she agreed. “It would be nice if it had more fiction, though.”

“Yes, I suppose so, but almost anything else will be covered very well. I did some arithmancy, and I figure that the Hogwarts library must have pretty nearly every book of magic ever written in the English language, except for the really dark ones...What’s your favourite subject that you’ve heard about so far, Matilda?”

She thought for a moment. “So far, it’s just learning all the theory behind what I can do. I never imagined there was so much more to magic. What about you, Hermione?”

“Arithmancy is my favourite subject,” Hermione said with a grin. “There’s just so much structure to the process, it’s a calming thing for me.”

Matilda nodded, although she didn’t really get what Arithmancy was exactly. “Maybe by the time I’m able to take the class, I’ll be able to understand some of the ideas behind it.”

Hermione nodded. “Understandable, and if you need help at that point, I can offer some tutoring.”

“Thank you!” Matilda grinned. “I’ll take you up on that if I ever need it.”

Hermione struggled with her next words, as if unsure how to segue into the subject. “By the way, have you learnt about House Elves yet?”

“I know they work in the kitchens, but I’ve never seen one.” Matilda shrugged. “Why?” 

“You see, I’m starting a campaign for equal rights for House Elves…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: JK Rowling and Roald Dahl own all.
> 
> Just to clarify since there were a couple of reviewers asking, this story is not set in the Arithmancer-Verse. This is (pretty close to) canon Harry Potter, and that should be plenty for Matilda to get on with.

Matilda waited in the Common Room with the rest of Hufflepuff as she waited for Cedric to get back from the Champions’ meeting on Halloween night. The atmosphere was tense. About half the people were trying to get the party going like they’d planned after someone grabbed some snacks from the Kitchens, while the other half were complaining about Potter.

Matilda wasn’t with either of those groups. She hadn’t been a Hufflepuff long enough to feel as strongly about it as her house-mates, and she was more concerned with how Cedric was getting on.

Finally, he climbed through the entrance barrel, looking weary, and she sprang to her feet. “Cedric! What happened?” she said.

Unfortunately, that got everyone else’s attention, and half the House mobbed Cedric. Matilda was short enough that she got shoved to the side.

“Hey, Cedric. Good on you getting chosen, at least.”

“What happened in there?”

“It was just some prank of Potter’s, right?”

“How’d he do it?”

“We got the food. We can still have the party.”

“Who cares if Potter’s in? He’ll never win.”

“You’ll give him what for, just like in Quidditch.”

Through all of this, Cedric was trying to push through the crowd, but so many people were trying to either congratulate him or commiserate with him that he couldn’t get away. He tried to say, “Yes, Potter’s in,” and “I don’t know how,” and “They’re making him do it,” but it didn’t seem like anyone could hear him.

Matilda was just trying to decide what the best way was of getting everyone’s attention, when Beatrice Haywood’s voice cut above the crowd and shouted, _“HEY! Shut up!”_ When they fell silent, she added, “Give the man some space, seriously. So what _did_ happen, Cedric? Is Potter in the Tournament?”

Cedric found himself in a tight circle as everyone waited for his answer. He sighed: “ _Yes_ , Potter’s in.” Before the protests and complaints could start, he continued, “The Goblet was legit, I guess, and Mr. Crouch says it’s a binding magical contract, so they can’t disqualify him or anything.”

“That’s rubbish!” someone called.

Despite Cedric’s obvious desire to escape the crowds, people continued to barrage him with questions and expressions of how upset they were.

“You’re the only _real_ champion!”

“Potter’s got no chance!”

“He clearly cheated somehow!”

Cedric acknowledged these comments with shrugs and nods, trying to continue down the hall to the dorms, but it wasn’t that easy. At the behest of his house-mates, he halfheartedly joined in the party for a little while, but it was soon apparent that he wanted some peace and quiet. Matilda finally caught him near the entrance to the boys’ dorms once things started to let up.

“I’m sorry this didn’t work out quite right, Cedric,” she told him.

“Thanks, Matilda,” he said. “I don’t think Potter will be that much competition, really. He’s done a couple big things, but the fourth-years say he’s not that special in class. It’s just annoying.”

“Did you talk to him at all? Did he say how he did it—or if he did it?”

He shook his head: “He said he didn’t put his name in. I don’t know why he’d lie when they’re making him compete either way, but that’s what he said.”

But that confirmed what Matilda had already been thinking. “Cedric, I don’t think he did put his name in,” she said.

He looked at her in surprise. For a split second, she thought he was going to tell her off for being a naive first-year. He wouldn’t be the first tonight. But instead, he asked, “How do you figure? Why wouldn’t he?”

“You didn’t see him when his name was called. He looked terrified. Like he didn’t want to go at all.”

He frowned: “That’s not what everybody else is saying.”

She sighed. It was surprising how little people had seemed to be paying attention to Potter in that moment. “They were probably all too upset for you to notice,” she said. “I don’t like it that he’s stepping on your toes or Hufflepuff’s either, but…” She shrugged. “Do they know how his name got in?”

“They said someone must have Confunded the Goblet to add a fourth school to the Tournament, and then his name was the only one for that school.”

“That’s a sixth-year spell, isn’t it?” Matilda asked. “You were talking about it a few weeks ago. Could Potter have done it?”

“Well, on his own, I wouldn’t’ve said so, but I don’t really know.”

“Hmm…” She thought for a minute. “Did anyone else believe him?”

“Dumbledore and McGonagall did, of course. And, well, Moody thinks someone’s trying to kill him, but he’s Moody.”

Matilda stared into space, wide-eyed. That part hadn’t registered yet. Potter was two years behind Cedric and hadn’t sat his O.W.L.s yet. Would he even be capable of handling the dangerous tasks? Moody’s opinion didn’t really mean a whole lot to her, even though his classes had been quite informative despite their first encounter. Why would someone want to enter Harry Potter in the tournament to get him killed? It didn’t make any sense.

But would Potter be in mortal danger regardless? That was quite a bit more worrying.

* * *

For a while, Matilda continued her normal schedule. Despite the excitement of the Tournament, things didn’t change very much for first-years. She didn’t want to join in with people ragging on Potter in the evenings, and the visiting students were all sixth- and seventh-years, so they didn’t have much time or interest in talking to a curious “firstie.” She exchanged a few words with Hermione, but the older girl was always frightfully busy with her own work and trying to help Potter.

So, Matilda hung out with her friends and kept up with her schoolwork, and generally continued to enjoy life at Hogwarts as they waited for the First Task. The biggest change, she reflected, was that the older girls were following Cedric around a lot more—all except for Beatrice Haywood, who just rolled her eyes at them.

It was nearly two weeks after the Champion selection when things reached a level she couldn’t ignore. That was when she started seeing people wearing strange badges—mostly Slytherins, but some Hufflepuffs, too. At first, she just thought they said, _“SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY—THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION.”_ But she soon saw that they flipped back and forth between that and, _“POTTER STINKS.”_

“Well, that’s not very friendly,” she said to herself.

She tried to tell that to a couple of the older Hufflepuffs who were wearing them, too, but they didn’t listen. Noticing that Eleanor and Laura were going to get some, though, she quickly stopped them.

“He’s got it bad enough,” she told them. “Leave those badges.”

That evening, she saw Potter sitting alone at dinner at the end of the Gryffindor Table, which seemed unusual, so when he left, she quickly got up to follow, heedless to the stares her house-mates were giving her.

“Excuse me. Potter?” she called when she caught up with him.

He turned around and glared at her. “What do you want?” he said.

Matilda halted, but didn’t flinch, though this already wasn’t how she was hoping this would go. This was her first time talking to Harry Potter, and he was immediately angry. Of course, she might have been the same way if their situations were reversed.

“Potter, I just wanted you to know, I don’t believe you put your own name in the Goblet of Fire.”

Potter’s anger vanished, and he stared at her in surprise. Up close, he didn’t look extraordinary—which was to be expected, she supposed. It just wasn’t often you got to meet someone you’d read about in books. But he looked a bit ragged, in fact, with the uncombed black hair and the dark circles under his eyes.

Finally, he found his voice and replied to her: “Are you messing with me?”

“Of course not,” she said.

“You actually believe me?” he asked. She nodded. “Figures.” He muttered something under his breath. “It’d be nice if anyone else did.” 

“If they were paying attention on Halloween, they could see that you didn’t want to do it,” she insisted. “I told Cedric, too. He...he’s annoyed by the situation, but I don’t think he has anything against you.”

“Really?” he said sceptically.

She nodded again. “I’m sorry about the badges, too,” she said. “A lot of my house-mates haven’t been acting like very good Hufflepuffs lately.”

Potter still looked like he didn’t quite believe she was for real. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

She stepped closer to him. “Because I know what it’s like to have people ignore me—to just talk over me and not listen to what I’m saying.” She held out her hand. “I’m Matilda Honey.”

He hesitated, then shook her hand. “Oh, you’re the first-year Hermione keeps talking about, aren’t you?” he said. “The one who does wandless magic.” His expression soured. “I remember you now. You were the one who saved Malfoy when Moody turned him into a ferret.”

Matilda sighed: “I know people don’t like him very much, but he didn’t deserve to be badly hurt like that.”

Potter grumbled, “I could stand to see him hurt a _little_.”

Matilda decided to change the subject. “I imagine it’s hard for you, but at least you have Hermione and your friend… what’s his name, the twins’ brother.”

Harry’s lips pursed as she brought up Ron. “Yeah, right.”

Matilda could tell something was up, so she said, “Did something happen?” She had noticed that the other Weasley hadn’t been around Harry since the Champions’ names were called out. 

Harry reluctantly said, “My best mate is jealous and won’t talk to me, and Malfoy landed Hermione in the Hospital Wing.”

Matilda jumped. “Hermione’s in the Hospital Wing?” she said worriedly.

“Yeah, he hit her with a Tooth-Growing Hex—well, he was trying to hit me, but still. She should be fine, but she isn’t back yet.”

Matilda’s eyes widened in concern. “Oh, no! Have you seen her, is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answered. “I haven’t had a chance to go and see her yet. As far as I know, she’s still in the Hospital Wing.”

Matilda checked her watch, seeing if she had time. “I’ve got twenty minutes till I have to be in Herbology, I’ll go check on her for you,” she offered.

Harry seemed pleasantly surprised. “You would? Thank you, I have to go to Charms now or I would.”

Matilda nodded. “I’ll try and find you at dinner, how does that sound?”

Harry agreed, “All right, that sounds fine.”

With that, Matilda ran off through the castle, trying to find out where Hermione and the Hospital Wing were.

* * *

Matilda hurried into the Hospital Wing, breathless from running. Scanning the beds, she saw Hermione lying on a cot in the corner and hurried to her side. Hearing her approach, Hermione looked up and seemed surprised to see her.

“Matilda? How did you know I was here?” she asked.

“Harry told me. I just wanted to tell him that I believe him that he didn’t put his name in the Goblet, and he mentioned you were here. I told him I’d check on you, since he had to go to class.What happened?”

With a sigh, she said, “Harry and Draco got into it when we were waiting to go into Potions class, and it came to wands. Harry’s spell hit Crabbe, but Draco’s Tooth-Growing Hex ended up hitting me. My front teeth grew about two feet long before I managed to get down here to Madam Pomfrey.”

Matilda’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s insane. But at least it was only teeth, right?”

Hermione cringed as she said, “Teeth _hurt_ when they’re grown out far enough to catch on things, most especially your own chin. I was sure they were going to break off, and if I’d had an underbite, it would’ve been really bad.”

Matilda shivered as she recalled the (age-appropriate) medical books Jenny had let her read and inferred some of the problems that could arise. She shook her head in sympathy. “Those boys...well, you look better now. Will you be here much longer.”

Hermione chuckled. “No, I’ll be going up to bed soon. Madam Pomfrey fixed them pretty quickly, but she didn’t want me eating with them without supervision. That’s the only reason I’m still here. Plus she wants to make another check on their size before I go.” Hermione bared her teeth to show that they were back to normal. Or were they? “Don’t tell Madam Pomfrey,” she whispered, leaning closer, “but I let her shrink them a bit more to get them the right size. My parents wanted me to fix them with a brace; they’re both dentists, you know, but honestly, I’d had enough of them. And now Professor Snape can’t make fun of them anymore.”

Matilda started: “Professor Snape made fun of you?”

Hermione lowered her gaze. “Well, not really…”

“Hermione, you shouldn’t let him get away with something like that as a teacher.” Matilda didn’t want her to brush something like this off. “What did he say?”

“He just said that they looked no different after I got hit with the jinx,” she said, a few lingering tears falling down her face. “That’s why I just ran off and came down here.”

This made Matilda unbelievably angry. Just because Snape was a teacher, and didn’t really get on with Harry (or anyone, she’d noticed) didn’t mean he had to go about insulting everyone, especially just for being a little different. It reminded her of her parents forcing her to watch the telly because it was “normal”.

And this gave her an idea. “I think it’s time I brought out my old tricks.”

* * *

After some thought and a bit of work over the weekend, Matilda had her plan set up. She implemented it during Monday's Potion’s class.

In her experience, there usually wasn’t much to stop someone from pulling even the most basic of pranks except for the paranoia of the target. That paranoia was why she hadn’t tried to do anything about Professor Moody, and from what she’d heard, Snape wouldn’t be much easier.

Making a show of wandless magic wouldn’t impress in the magical world like it did in the muggle world, and he might clue in to what she was doing with the reputation she’d gained. More practical jokes weren’t much better. The older students said people had tried to prank Snape before and didn’t often succeed. He was wise to the usual tricks. Even the old bucket of water over the door might draw his suspicion with the door being left ajar.

But Matilda had an extra trick up her sleeve. With some practice, she trained herself to levitate an object and then keep holding it in place without looking at it. Lingering in the back row while she waited for everyone to enter the classroom, she quickly set up her plan. She knew that Snape never arrived until all the students were there, and that was crucial. Thankfully, everyone else was busy pulling out their books and parchment.

“ _Colovaria,”_ she whispered, careful to make sure no one noticed her doing it. The small bucket she was using changed colour to match the stone wall. It was still visible, but should elude a casual glance for a few minutes. Then, she wandlessly put it in place and walked calmly to her seat.

After a couple minutes, Snape came into the classroom, robes sweeping behind him—or, rather he tried, for the bucket had been hovering in front of the closed door rather than sitting on top of it. When Snape slammed the door open, as usual, it hit the bucket and tipped it over onto his head. And the best part: the bucket wasn’t filled with water, but with cooking oil.

Everyone turned to see the commotion, and when they saw him standing there, oil dripping down his face and already oily hair, Matilda could barely contain her laughter. She wasn’t alone, though, as the other students found it quite funny. Her only regret was that no one in class was crazy enough to say, “I see no difference.”

Without a word, Snape vanished the oil from his robes and the floor.

“If any of you know anything about this,” he spat out as he headed for the front of the classroom. “I suggest you come forward.”

But no one else knew anything, and Matilda wasn’t going to out herself. She felt a great sense of pride for the rest of the day. It had been quite a while since she’d dealt out her version of justice, and it felt good.

* * *

Word of what happened in the first year Potions class spread through the school quickly, but it was overtaken eventually as the First Task approached. Matilda couldn’t help feeling the excitement that everyone else was feeling, although she felt a pit of worry in her stomach for the Champions and the danger they would have to face. After all, people had died in this tournament. She figured that Cedric, Viktor Krum, and Fleur Delacour would be able to handle whatever the professors decided to throw at them, but Harry would definitely struggle, simply by the nature of being several years younger.

No one knew what the Task would be, and when she’d asked Cedric if he’d gotten any kind of clue, she simply said, “No, Bagman said that we weren’t going to get any clues for this Task, to see how we deal with the unexpected.”

She saw the logic and guessed that the professors and the Ministry wouldn’t give the Champions an impossible task. However, she knew that this would likely be the most dangerous Task, since they had no idea what was coming.

Finally, the day of the First Task arrived. It was a chilly November morning, so Matilda and her friends dressed warmly before heading to breakfast.

“Look at all the Champions,” Eleanor whispered, nudging Matilda as they passed Fleur Delacour sitting at the Ravenclaw table. Her expression was calm, but she wrung her hands, the only show of nerves that any of them had seen from her thus far. Viktor Krum hadn’t arrived, but Matilda caught sight of Harry across the Hall, noticing that he and Hermione were talking in hushed tones. Finally, they made their way down the Hufflepuff table, where Cedric, Beatrice, and some other people were eating. Well, most of them were.

“I’m not hungry,” Cedric said as his friends were prodding him to have some breakfast. He hadn’t touched his plate.

“You should, at least eat a few bites of porridge, Cedric,” Matilda said. “You’ll need it later.”

Beatrice nodded like she’d been proven right. “See, even the firsties get it! Eat a few bites, or I’ll make you.”

Cedric managed a small grin as he ate a bite. He only made it through a few more before he pushed the bowl away. “I can’t, I’m too nervous. I can’t face the- the task with food in my stomach, I know I’ll be sick.”

Matilda seemed to be the only one who noticed Cedric’s slight pause. Had he somehow managed to find out what the task was? She was grateful to whoever had told him if that was the case, but she couldn’t be sure.

Eventually, Matilda noticed Dumbledore stand and head to his podium. The chatter in the hall died down as he spoke. “I would ask that at this time, Champions make their way to the Quidditch Pitch. You all need to be informed of what your task is.”

Everyone wished Cedric luck as he headed away, followed by the other champions. They were escorted out of the Hall by Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore returned to his seat as they left.

“Oh, I hope no one is hurt,” Laura said anxiously.

Beatrice pursed her lips. “I doubt that they would be given a task that’s impossible, but that doesn’t mean it has to be easy. I’ve tried to help Cedric find out different spells that could be useful, but who knows what will be useful?”

Breakfast slowly ended, and the students began to trickle out of the Hall and down to the Pitch. Matilda followed her friends to the field, as she had never been before now. As the stands came into view, Matilda stared in awe.

“That’s amazing!” she exclaimed. 

Beatrice grinned at her. “Wait until you see a Quidditch match played…! I would’ve thought they’d build a separate arena for this, though.” She shrugged. Apparently, the pitch _had_ been modified, since it was filled with jagged rocks instead of grass. Some kind of obstacle course?

Quickly finding places, everyone prepared to watch whatever task the Ministry had dreamed up. They waited for twenty minutes for the crowds to get settled, and finally, Ludo Bagman stepped out into the middle of the field to explain the task.

“Dragons?!” Beatrice was extremely worried. “How are they supposed to deal with that with no warning!”

Matilda felt her heart sink as she realised what was going to happen. “They’ve got to have a chance, and there are safeguards in place, right?” she asked hopefully. “They wouldn’t just do this without safety measures in place, would they?”

Watching the first dragon being let out, she felt a sense of terror. Cedric had seemed to maybe have some warning, but how did you beat a ferocious dragon?

* * *

The mood before and after the task had no comparison. Everyone was jovial and happy as they celebrated. They surrounded Cedric, showering him with praise and anticipation for the next task. Matilda stood around Cedric and their group of friends, full of relief and excitement, holding a glass of pumpkin juice that someone had sneaked from the kitchens.

“What’s in the egg?” Beatrice demanded as everyone chattered around them. “Open it, Ced!”

With a grin, Cedric twisted the egg’s lid and opened it. Everyone prepared to hear a riddle, or see a physical clue fall out. What they didn’t expect was for the common room to fill with a horrible screeching noise. Everyone covered their ears from the piercing sound, and Cedric quickly closed the egg. As the sound went away, everyone stared at the egg in confusion.

“What the hell was that?” Beatrice questioned.

“I’ve never heard something like that,” Matilda said. “Could it be a banshee? Would they make you fight another creature for the Second Task?”

Cedric shrugged. “I don’t think so, but that’s really weird. Maybe we’ll find something out over the holidays.”

* * *

After the celebration, their house-mates began to head to their dormitories or out of the common room to get in a bit of studying (exams were coming up soon for most of them, after all). Eventually, all that remained in the Common Room were Cedric, Laura, Matilda, Eleanor, and Beatrice.

“Hey, Beatrice,” Eleanor said. “Would you show us that book on trolls you mentioned? I think that’ll help with my History of Magic essay.”

Beatrice stood up and stretched. “Sure, it’s in the library.”

Laura and Eleanor both stood and followed Beatrice out of the room. Laura turned back to Matilda. “You coming?” she asked.

Matilda shook her head. “No, I think I have enough for mine.”

They left, and Cedric and Matilda were alone. This was the opportunity she’d wanted all day. “Hey, Cedric, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Go ahead, “ he said, turning his attention to her.

Matilda thought of how to word the question. “Did you find out something about the task beforehand somehow? It sounded like you hesitated this morning when you were mentioning what it might be.”

Cedric looked unsure to answer. It was almost like he didn’t know himself. “Potter told me,” he finally said. “He cornered me when my bag broke after Charms class a few days ago.”

Matilda was as surprised to hear it as Cedric seemed to be. “Did he say how he found out?”

Cedric shook his head. “Nope, he didn’t. I wanted to ask, but I was so surprised I didn’t.”

Matilda shrugged. “Well, however he found out, I’m glad he told you.”

* * *

After the First Task, the holidays came up on everyone quickly. The school was decorated beautifully, with many Christmas trees, garland, and singing suits of armour. Matilda watched all the decorations go up with excitement.

And then the news of the Yule Ball began to circle among the older students. Matilda had thought about staying to attend until she learnt that only fourth years and above were allowed to go.

“I’ll get to see Jenny for the holidays, at least!” Matilda tried to be positive.

“I’ll be so bored,” Eleanor said, sighing as she read a book. “Everyone will be so busy with the Ball, I’ll have no one to talk to.”

“You’re staying?” Laura asked her.

Eleanor nodded. “Have to. My parents are taking a trip to Norway, and I’m too young to go.”

Matilda gave her a hopeful smile. “Well, you can at least see everyone getting dressed,” she tried. “I’m sure the clothes will be so pretty!”

Eleanor nodded, not totally convinced. “I’ll probably just play Exploding Snap with Beatrice. I don’t think she’s going with anyone, and she doesn’t seem like the sort to take a lot of time with it.”

“I thought Cedric might ask her, even just as a friend,” Laura commented.

“He’s taking that fifth year Ravenclaw, Cho Chang,” Matilda informed them. “I saw them talking at dinner the other day.”

“Oh, really?” Eleanor was surprised. “Never saw them together, but okay.”

* * *

A few days later, Matilda was finally on her way home. She and Laura had spent most of the trip trading stories about growing up with magic and without. Finally, the train came to a stop.

Matilda was about as excited as Jenny had ever seen her when she got off the train. They tightly embraced as soon as Matilda saw her.

“How was Hogwarts, sweetheart?” Jenny asked.

“Hogwarts is _amazing_ , Jenny!” Matilda was bursting to tell her, but cautiously checked to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “The classes are so cool, and the castle is almost alive.”

Jenny was confused to hear this. “It’s not just a regular castle?”

Matilda shook her head. “Definitely not. There are magical secret passages, candles float in the Great Hall, and there’s even a ghost teacher”

At this, Jenny blinked. “A ghost teacher, Matilda? You didn’t mention that in your letters.” 

Matilda shook her head. “Well, he’s really boring actually—puts everyone to sleep. But the rest of the classes are pretty good. And I got to see _real dragons!_ They were beautiful.”

“I hope you were far enough away from them,” Jenny pleaded. “Aren’t they dangerous?”

Matilda nodded. “Definitely, but we were in the stands. It was part of the Triwizard Tournament. I told you about it.”

Jenny nodded as she recalled. “Oh, yes, I remember. You said one of your friends was involved in it?”

“Yes, my friend Cedric. I was scared Cedric was gonna get hurt, and then I was _really_ scared Harry Potter was gonna get hurt. He had to fight the Hungarian Horntail. It was really scary. It must have been as big as a Tyrannosaurus, and it could shoot fire fifty feet. But Potter summoned his broom _all_ the way from the castle and out-flew it! I had no idea you could summon things that far. I sure couldn’t have done that.”

Jenny chuckled uncomfortably. “Well, I don’t want you fighting dragons anytime soon, Matilda,” she said.

Matilda grinned. “I won’t, they didn’t let any young kids in, remember? Harry was just a fluke.”

“Thank goodness,” Jenny murmured.

“But I told you they _do_ give the first-years flying lessons. Those are loads of fun. I can only kind of do that with wandless magic. Flying on a broomstick is way better.”

Jenny laughed a bit uncomfortably. “You’ll have to tell me all about it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: In the Bi-Author Tournament, JK Rowling probably beats Roald Dahl, but I’m more sceptical about the movies.
> 
> Big thanks to Caitlin Thaxton for creating the new cover art for this story on FFN. You can check it out there.

Christmas holidays ended soon enough, and Matilda returned to Hogwarts. The drama of the Yule Ball had died down by the time she returned. Now, the buzz was a newspaper article claiming that Professor Hagrid, the twelve-foot-tall Care of Magical Creatures teacher, was half-giant. Matilda didn’t know how that worked, but she really didn’t know what the big deal was. Not that she’d met Hagrid, but everyone said that he was friendly enough, if a bit obsessed with large and dangerous animals.

Matilda sat one night, reading a copy of the article. It seemed like there was truth in the matter, but the article writer, a woman named Rita Skeeter, seemed to delight in over-exaggerating the situation.

“This is ridiculous,” she murmured, setting the article down. As she did so, she saw Cedric leaving the Common Room. A bit unusual for this hour. “Hey, Cedric. Are you off to do some more research?”

Cedric seemed surprised at being asked and blushed slightly. “No, I was actually just off to see Cho. I solved the egg clue over break.”

“You did?” Matilda said in surprise. “Er...did you tell Potter about it? Only, he helped you out, telling you about the dragons…”

“Yeah, I told him. I definitely owed him for that. I’m not sure what I’m going to do myself yet, but he knows what’s coming.”

“Oh, that’s good,” she said. “Have fun, then.”

For some reason, this made Cedric blush harder as he hurriedly exited the Common Room.

* * *

It was a few days before the Second Task when Hermione came to Matilda between classes for help. She looked harried, and her hair was frizzier than usual.

“What’s wrong?” Matilda asked.

“Matilda, I wanted to ask you about the Second Task,” she said. “I know you talk with Cedric. Has he said anything about it?”

Matilda shrugged. “I know he figured out how to solve the egg, and that he told Harry. The last I heard, he hadn’t decided what he was going to do, but that was a while ago. Why do you ask?”

“Because Harry still doesn’t have any idea. At all,” Hermione said worriedly. “He’s been looking in the library for weeks, but he hasn’t let on how poorly he’s doing. _Boys_ ,” she muttered. “Apparently, he hasn’t found _anything_. Ron and I are trying to help now, but there’s not enough time left for me to research it properly. The library _needs_ a modern catalogue system.”

Matilda could agree with that. It was frustrating trying to find anything specific in that place because the books were only roughly organised.

“So I was hoping you could ask Cedric to give Harry some more advice, or maybe you already knew something?”

Matilda shook her head. “No, I don’t know anything more. I can try to ask Cedric, but I don’t think he’ll want to help the competition more than he has to. What _was_ the clue, anyway?”

“Well, Cedric’s clue was to take a bath, and take the egg with. Harry finally caved, and did what Cedric said. The clue was a riddle. We’re not completely certain what it means, but it sounds like the Champions will have to retrieve something of theirs from the bottom of the Black Lake” Hermione repeated the riddle for Matilda.

“That sounds ominous,” Matilda concluded. “So, then, Harry needs a way to breathe underwater?”

“Exactly. And we can’t find one. I thought it would be easy to find, but we’ve looked all over, and nothing’s come up.”

“Hm, that’s odd. You _would_ think there’d be something. Do wizards go diving at all?”

“Not that I know of,” Hermione said. “And maybe that’s why. I’ve never asked before, but Ron had never heard of it, and he didn’t know what an Aqualung was when we first talked about it. I probably shouldn’t be surprised, since they’ve only been around for about fifty years. Diving as we know it would be unrecognisable to our own grandparents at our age. But there just has to be _something_ for wizards! They wouldn’t set the Champions a task that was undoable.”

Matilda considered this. She was sure Hermione had read a lot more of the Hogwarts Library than she had, but she considered the books she _had_ read. If wizards did go diving, who would do it? Was it a hobby? It certainly wasn’t a sport. People hardly ever talked about anything but Quidditch. What did she know at all about the underwater part of the magical world at all?

“What about Newt Scamander?” she said suddenly. “He wrote a lot about aquatic magical creatures. Do you know how he studied them?”

Hermione blinked in astonishment. “No, I don’t…” she said, “but I think I can find out.”

“Quick, Watson! To the library!” Matilda said, giggling.

“Hey, why am _I_ Watson?” Hermione protested.

“Because I just solved the case.” Matilda said smugly.

“You _think_ you solved the case. Come on.” Hermione rolled her eyes, and the two girls dashed off for the library.

* * *

The answer turned out to be Gillyweed. Hermione had found it easily, so she could qualify as Holmes now, but she insisted she wouldn’t have done without Matilda’s hint. Gillyweed was a magical plant that when eaten would temporarily give you gills. Newt Scamander had used it to study the Merfolk of Europe up close. It was also possible, he said, to use an air-purifying charm called the Bubble-Head Charm to breathe underwater, but he said Gillyweed made it easier to communicate with the Merfolk.

Hermione had doubts about Harry’s ability to learn that charm in time for the Second Task, so they’d asked around about Gillyweed, and Neville Longbottom had been able to get some for him. When the day arrived, it looked like he was ready. (Cedric, she learnt later, had simply used the Bubble-Head Charm.)

It wasn’t until the Champions had all started the Second Task that word started filtering around the crowd about the hostages.

At first, Matilda still wasn’t sure Potter would be able to do it. Even with Gillyweed, it would have to be hard to force yourself to breathe a liquid. He looked like he was going to be sick when he waded into the water, but he ate the plant and soon slipped under the surface. The judges didn’t seem worried about him, so he was probably alright.

The hostages, on the other hand—that was more worrying. She first noticed when she couldn’t spot Hermione among the Gryffindors, and she soon heard them saying that both Hermione _and_ Ron Weasley were missing, which was definitely not like them. It soon emerged that the things the Champions would “sorely miss” were people.

Matilda couldn’t believe it. Not that she thought they were in danger...probably, but it was still a tad worrying. What if something went wrong?

“Excuse me, Professor Dumbledore?” she asked, sidling over to where Dumbledore was observing the lake.

Dumbledore looked down at her and smiled. “Yes, Miss Honey?”

“The hostages aren’t _really_ in danger, are they, sir? I mean…that would be _illegal_.” And she had no idea how she was going to pull a prank over on the Headmaster if it came to it.

But Dumbledore answered her warmly: “You may rest assured that the ‘hostages,’ as you put it, are perfectly safe. They were placed in an enchanted sleep for the Task, and they will be brought to the surface unharmed should the champions be unable to reach them.”

“Oh, that’s good. Thank you, Professor,” Matilda said with relief. She looked out at the placid surface of the water.

A minute later, she frowned and turned back to the Headmaster. “Are we just supposed to stare at the Lake the whole time, sir?”

Dumbledore seemed amused at her comment. “And unfortunate oversight, I’m afraid. We had planned to have some sort of visual feed for you all down at the Merpeople’s village, but they refused to allow us to do that. They are rather private about such things. We hope there will be no problems with the final task, however. We know this isn’t going to be a particularly entertaining task, but there you are.”

Matilda nodded. “All right, sir. I just thought it was sort of boring to stare at the lake. I hope something can be done for the last task.”

About halfway through the allotted hour, Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons Champion, washed up on the beach. It wasn’t clear how she’d made it back to shore because she struggled to even stand. She looked a sight. She was bleeding from nicks all over her face and arms, and her swimsuit was torn in ways that made the older boys a little too eager to run out to the water’s edge and help her up. And despite her current state, she was spitting mad and looked half-panicked. She was fighting with the boys and with Madam Pomfrey when she began tending to her wounds.

Madame Maxime came over to see her champion, looming over the group. (Madame Maxime was allegedly another half-giant who was every bit as tall as Professor Hagrid and maybe even more imposing.) Delacour started shouting up at her headmistress in what sounded like incoherent French with a few Slavic words mixed in.

Matilda crept closer to hear the commotion more clearly. The Beauxbatons Champion only seemed to be getting more frantic as Madam Pomfrey tried to help her, even biting and scratching so that Madame Maxime had to restrain her. She was babbling hysterically, shouting that she needed to go back into the Lake, and Matilda soon pieced together that her younger sister had been taken hostage. She’d been forced back to the surface and was desperate to get back down there and save her.

That raised Matilda’s eyebrows. Evidently, Delacour didn’t know that there was no real danger. Didn’t they tell them? But no, that wasn’t what the clue had said.

At once, Matilda broke from the crowd and skidded down the shore, running to Delacour’s side. _“Mademoiselle Delacour!”_ she shouted over her, trying to get her attention. _“It’s okay. It will be alright,”_ she said in fluent French.

Delacour did a double-take. _“What? Who are you?”_

_“Your sister will be fine, Mademoiselle Delacour. I spoke with Professor Dumbledore. He said the hostages aren’t in any danger. The Merfolk will bring them up safe at the end of the hour.”_

The older girl stared more in confusion than anything else at some random eleven-year-old showing up and telling her that. _“But the clue said—”_ she began, but was interrupted by Madame Maxime.

 _“Excuse me, child,”_ the headmistress boomed indignantly. _“You should not be interfering with the task.”_

Matilda shot her a defiant look and promptly ignored her. _“I know what the clue says, but it’s wrong,”_ she said. _“You can ask Professor Dumbledore yourself._ ” She pointed up to where the other judges were standing. _“Besides, they said from the beginning of the year that they were making the Tournament safer this time. They couldn’t do that if they were going to hurt hostages who didn’t even enter.”_

That seemed to get through to her. Understanding flashed over Delacour’s face. _“You, you must be right,”_ she said. _“But the clue...then…”_ She wheeled on Madame Maxime herself, glaring fiercely. _“You! You knew this, Madame?”_ she demanded.

 _“Yes,”_ Maxime said resignedly, _“since the little girl has proof. Although I did not write the clue—”_

Delacour stood up. Steam began rising from her skin. Matilda stepped back worriedly. _“And you did not tell me this?”_

Matilda jumped when a hand clapped down on her shoulder. Beatrice.

“Might wanna back off there, kid,” she said. “She may only be part-Veela, but this could still get ugly. Good on you for telling her, though. I know I’d be freaking out and hexing the judges if they had Penny down there.”

“Thanks,” Matilda said as she rejoined the crowd.

In the end, _none_ of the Champions made it back to the surface in under an hour. Cedric made it back with Cho in sixty-one minutes. Krum returned with Hermione a few minutes later. (Apparently, she had gone with him to the Yule Ball.) Potter, however, was much longer in getting back, and she worried his Gillyweed might have worn off. It had been an hour and a half when he finally broke the surface, bringing both Ron and Delacour’s little sister. For his “moral fibre,” Potter was elevated to tie for first place with Cedric. Well, she supposed Hufflepuff couldn’t win them all.

* * *

The Third Task was revealed in late May. Oddly enough, there was no mystery to this one. The Champions would have to navigate a hedge maze on the Quidditch pitch that was filled with dangerous traps and creatures.

Matilda saw the obvious problem at once. In fact, the day after Cedric reported what the task would be, she walked down to the pitch to see for herself, climbing all the way up to the top box to get a clear view. She had to estimate a bit, but she could see she was right. If the hedges were really going to be twenty feet high, then everyone in the regular stands that ringed the pitch wouldn’t be able to see what was going on. Only the teachers, officials, and other people who sat in the upper boxes would, and even then, maybe not very well.

That was why, after Herbology on Monday, Matilda spoke to her Head of House.

“Excuse me, Professor Sprout?”

“Yes, Miss Honey?” Sprout asked.

“I had a question about the Third Task.”

“Oh? Is it about the hedges? I’m quite proud of the design if I say so myself.”

“Well, in a manner of speaking, Professor,” Matilda said. “I was wondering if there was any way to help the spectators see what’s going on in the task. The way it is now, I’m pretty sure everyone’s view will be blocked just like the Second Task.”

Sprout frowned, a sour look spreading on her face. “I think you may be right, Miss Honey,” she admitted. “I’ll speak with the Headmaster to see if we can set something up.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Matilda smiled. “I know he said there might be something done at the last task, so maybe he’d help you come up with something.”

* * *

“Welcome to the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament,” Professor Dumbledore announced. The day had finally arrived. “In a few minutes, the Champions will begin searching the hedge maze for the Triwizard Cup. I want to apologise for the view. After the Second Task, we sought to improve the spectator experience. However, there was some concern—” He eyed the other judges. “—that if the Cup were visible by the audience, it would be possible to send the Champions hints as to its location. Thus, we have attempted to reach a compromise.”

The hedge maze was different from the original plan, Matilda saw. The hedges were only ten feet high, and it was possible to see a lot of creatures wandering around in the maze, but there were also a lot of blind corners—a lot of places for the Triwizard Cup (or the Champions and the obstacles for that matter) to hide.

She could see a large, scorpion-like thing that was apparently called a Blast-Ended Skrewt, one of the alleged illegal hybrids Professor Hagrid had created. Maybe even more surprising was that there was a spider the size of a horse, like something out of an old monster movie.

“At the sound of the whistle,” Ludo Bagman announced, the first two Champions will enter the maze.”

“You can do it, Cedric!” Matilda called, raising a cheer from the Hufflepuff section. Cedric smiled and waved to the crowd.

Bagman blew his whistle, and first Cedric and Potter, then Krum, and lastly, Fleur Delacour hurried into the maze.

* * *

Something was wrong.

There was some spellfire near the centre of the maze, and then, everything just stopped. Minutes passed, but Cedric and Potter didn’t emerge from behind that last corner.

“They should’ve come out by now, shouldn’t they?” Matilda said, nervously glancing around.

Laura shrugged. “Maybe they’re duelling over the Cup?”

“No, that can’t be. We’d see spells being cast,” Beatrice guessed.

“Maybe they switched to fisticuffs?” That was Justin Finch-Fletchley. Everyone around him stared at him.

“Fisticuffs?” said Ernie Macmillan.

“You know, boxing?” Justin spoke like it was obvious.

Beatrice shook her head. “Do any wizards know boxing besides you, Justin?” she asked. “Anyway, Cedric wouldn’t think of that. He’s a pureblood. And he’d wipe the floor with Potter in a fair duel. This has to be something else.” Her own voice betrayed worry as well.

“Should somebody check on them? Maybe they’re both hurt and can’t get out.” Matilda craned her neck, but could see nothing.

Looking over at the judges, she saw that they were arguing with each other. Karkaroff’s voice was audible. He was shouting at Dumbledore: “Our Champions are out of the running anyway. You might as well fish your boys out of whatever trouble they’ve got in and spare us the drama.”

Matilda couldn’t hear Dumbledore’s response, but she could see Percy Weasley cross his arms and shake his head at every suggestion.

Beatrice was staring at Dumbledore with narrowed eyes. “Something’s definitely up,” she said.

“What do you mean?” Matilda asked.

“I know Dumbledore. He’s worried. He sent Snape off somewhere a few minutes ago. I’d bet it’s to call the Aurors.”

“Why not send Moody for that?” one of the other seventh-years said.

“Moody’s probably searching the maze. He ought to know what happened already, but maybe there’s too much magic. And that’s Bill Weasley there with the long hair. Looks like he’s giving Percy a talking-to.”

Indeed, the two redheaded brothers seemed in a heated argument. “I’ve heard Percy is a big stickler for the rules,” Justin said. “That’s probably why he’s refusing to allow someone to go down there and search.”

After a few more minutes, Cedric and Potter finally reappeared in front of the maze. Matilda started to run down the stands with the rest of the crowd to greet the winners, and then the shouting started—and then the screaming. And Matilda couldn’t believe what she was hearing: “He’s dead! Cedric Diggory—dead!”

She staggered, and the rushing crowd nearly knocked her over. It couldn’t be! They were supposed to be safe. But the shouting continued. “Diggory’s dead!” What—what had happened? She tried to see, but she wasn’t tall enough. She pushed her way through the crowd bumping the older students with her magic where her physical strength wasn’t enough. They were wrong, she thought. They _had_ to be wrong. But then, she broke through to the front, and she saw them.

Matilda had never been so grateful for the book of control exercises Professor Dumbledore had lent her last autumn. She felt on the verge of completely losing control of her magic for the first time in years. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated until she was sure she wasn’t going to blow something up. She opened her eyes again. Cedric was still lying there, his own eyes open and lifeless.

How could it have happened? Potter couldn’t have done it. He was sobbing and clinging to Cedric’s body as if it were the only thing tying him to sanity. The Minister for Magic himself was trying to pry him off. There was no blood from any of the creatures. It didn’t make any sense.

Matilda only remembered flashes of the next couple of minutes. Potter insensate with horror, being dragged away by Professor Moody. Crowds thronging closer around Cedric, trying to see if the report was true. Cedric’s father—she shuddered. Cedric’s dad’s wails of despair might have been the most horrible sound she’d ever heard in her life.

Then, there were hexes being cast. Luckily, it was restricted to one person, but the emotion behind them was stronger than anyone else’s besides Cedric’s parents and girlfriend as she heard the frantic voice of Beatrice Haywood jinxing her way through the crowd.

“No, No!” she cried. “Not again! Not Cedric! Not again!” Followed by a string of swear words that made Matilda’s eyebrows rise even in this situation. “This can’t be happening again!” she sobbed, falling to her knees beside Cedric’s body.

She jostled her way through the crowds in front of her until she was at Beatrice’s side. She gave her a couple minutes, but people were staring, and Cedric’s parents were getting ready to carry him away. “Bea, c’mon,” Matilda said, nudging her gently to stand. She guided her out of the crowd’s way, feeling their eyes on her. “You don’t want to be here right now.”

Beatrice stopped and sat down in the now empty stands. She wiped her eyes, smearing her makeup across her face, then leaned forward with her fists pressed against her forehead. It was five or ten minutes before she spoke. Matilda sat silently beside her.

Finally, Beatrice spoke. “I never told you about Rowan, did I?” she sniffed without looking at her.

Matilda struggled to speak. “No...I think you’ve mentioned the name once or twice but…”

“Rowan Khanna. She was in Gryffindor in my sister’s year—four years above me. She was Maya’s best friend, and she was _brilliant_ —even smarter than Granger, I think...You might’ve given her a run for her money. Rowan absolutely loved it here. She wanted to graduate top of her class and then become the youngest professor in Hogwarts history.” She snorted. “What kind of crazy-arse ambition is that…? But she never got the chance. In my second year, she was murdered by an international crime ring.”

Matilda gasped. It was clear she had died somehow, but that wasn’t what she was expecting.

“She jumped in front of a Killing Curse to save our friend Ben Copper. He works for the DMLE now. They called it a ‘payment’ for Maya interfering with their plans. All of us—all of Rowan’s friends—we all banded together and finally stopped the criminals a year later—Cedric too.” She looked up, and her eyes flashed with an anger that seemed to radiate off her. “And I thought we were bloody well _done_ with this crap, but every year there’s something else! The Defence teacher tried to kill Potter my fourth year. There was a basilisk attacking students in fifth year. Sirius Black last year, and now…” Her anger broke. “This,” she said tearfully.

Matilda had no idea what to say anymore, so she just leaned in and gave her a hug.

She had dealt with some pretty awful situations before. Her dad was a crook six ways to Sunday, without even getting to his parenting skills. The Trunchbull was almost certainly a murderer, and as she’d grown older, she understood more and more how messed up her treatment of her students was.

But in all her years, Matilda had never had to deal with... _this_. A fellow classmate dying was the most awful thing she’d endured, and it was felt throughout the school.

* * *

There was only just time to send an owl to Jenny with a short note about what happened, as school ended a few days later. Matilda couldn’t even be certain she’d received it, but the look on her mother’s face when she arrived at King’s Cross made it clear she had. The moment she saw her daughter, Jenny embraced Matilda in a hug that seemed to give all the comfort she hadn’t had over the last few days.

“ _Oh, sweetie,_ _”_ Jenny murmured as they embraced. “I’m so sorry about everything that happened.”

“Jenny, it was awful,” Matilda said, fresh tears falling down her face. “We were just supposed to be watching the end of the Tournament, and then everyone was screaming. Potter was on the ground sobbing. Even the Minister for Magic was freaking out, and Cedric—” She choked on her words.

“I know, sweetheart,” Jenny said. She was starting to tear up herself, but she dried Matilda’s eyes with her sleeve as they separated and faced each other.

Looking around, Matilda spotted Harry Potter standing nearby in shabby-looking muggle clothes. Hermione kissed him on the cheek and walked away while he joined a far better-dressed couple who couldn’t look more different from him. The husband was a very large, grumpy-looking man who looked oddly familiar. The wife was tall and thin, and the way she carried herself put Matilda in mind of a more posh version of her birth mother.

“You done here, boy?” the man said.

Potter mumbled something in return and followed reluctantly.

“Don’t expect us to let you bring any girls around!” the man said more loudly.

Matilda frowned and made her decision. “Just a minute, Jenny. I need to talk to Potter,” she said and ran after the family. “Excuse me,” she called. “Potter? Harry Potter?”

Potter turned around in surprise. “Honey?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

 _“Honey?!”_ the large man sputtered.

Matilda took it in stride. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that reaction, sometimes with honest worry for her. “My name, sir,” she said respectfully. “I’m Matilda Honey. I just wanted to speak to Harry for a moment.”

“I’m her mother, Jennifer,” Jenny had followed her, and to her credit, she greeted them politely, offering her hand to shake. “Matilda and Harry go to the same school. Are you the Potters, then?”

Harry’s eyes widened in horror, and the man swiftly turned purple with rage. “Dursley!” he roared. “My _name_ is Dursley, and don’t go associating us with _your_ lot. You’re one of _them_ , I take it?”

Jenny opened her mouth—hesitated, processing the words. “No, Mr. Dursley,” she said. “I’m actually a public school head—out here. And I apologise. I’ve only heard about your…” She glanced at Harry.

“Nephew,” Dursley grumbled.

“Your nephew, secondhand. I didn’t know about your situation.”

“C’mon,” Matilda whispered, pulling Harry away from the grownups. When they were on their own, she said, “Harry, I’m sorry I haven’t had time to talk to you,” Matilda said. “Cedric was my friend. I’m sorry for what’s happened.”

Harry gave a sigh and a nod. “I know you were his friend. I saw the Head Girl, what’s her name, freaking out when she saw him.”

Matilda nodded. “Beatrice is just about as upset as you are, I think. Everyone was upset. It’s true what Professor Dumbledore said, then?” She whispered even more quietly. “It was Lord Voldemort.”

Harry scowled at this. “I was there,” he said. “It was him…It was quick, at least. But yeah, _he_ _’s_ back—not that _Fudge_ believes it.”

“Minister Fudge doesn’t believe it?” she said in surprise.

“No—called me a liar, called me delusional, called _Dumbledore_ crazy. He finally decided Dumbledore trying to destabilise him.”

“What?!” Matilda was incredulous. “How did he come up with that mad idea?”

Harry shook his head. “There have been a ton of articles this year trying to make me look crazy, he’s using that. And I think he just doesn’t _want_ to believe it.”

“Why must grownups always try to make kids look silly or crazy when something bad happens.” Matilda groaned.

Harry shrugged with a bemused look on his face. His experience with grownups had probably been somewhat different from hers. “Oh, and you should probably know, Moody was an impostor the whole time.”

“He was what?”

“He was a Death Eater in disguise. That was why he was doing crazy stuff like turning Malfoy into a ferret and teacher the Fourth-Years to resist the Imperius Curse.”

“But how—?”

“Polyjuice Potion,” he said. “It lets you look like someone else. The real Moody was locked in his own trunk all year. I thought you should know in case you ever meet him.”

“Oh. Well, thanks, Harry,” she said, and that _did_ make her feel a little better—about Hogwarts’s hiring practises if nothing else. “And, if you need to talk, just send me an owl, okay?”

Harry nodded uncertainly, and the two of them headed back to Jenny and the Dursleys.

Jenny was still trying to chat with the Dursleys, who didn’t look very interested, although she also kept staring at Mr. Dursley with a queer look on her face. “If you don’t mind my asking, Mr. Dursley,” she finally said, “does the name Trunchbull mean anything to you?”

Mr. Dursley’s thick eyebrows rose in surprise. “I’ve got a cousin named Trunchbull,” he said, and Matilda gasped as she finally saw the resemblance. “She won gold in the Olympics a while back. Good woman. Haven’t heard from her in years, though. How did _you_ know?”

Jenny took a deep breath. “Because Agatha Trunchbull is my aunt.”

“Aunt?” he said. “I was hoping my side of the family had avoided that nonsense.”

Jenny glared in a way Matilda almost never saw from her. “By marriage,” she said. “And I’m glad of not being related by blood to _her_ , too. Are you ready to go, Matilda?”

“Yes, Jenny.” She held her hand as they walked out of the station together.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: JK Rowling versus Roald Dahl: who writes the best evil teachers? I don’t know, but Matilda is probably getting tired of it.
> 
> A lot of people said that Jenny should or would intervene with Harry and the Dursleys, and she certainly wouldn’t ignore them, but by Book 5, the Dursleys had pretty well backed off from hurting Harry (except on the day with the dementors). There’s not really that much need to intervene directly by this point.

Throughout the summer, Matilda sent many letters back and forth to her friends. Hermione’s letters were often taciturn, revealing little about what she was actually doing with her summer, besides staying with the Weasley family. Harry’s letters were full of his frustration with his two friends.

 _I just want to know what_ _’s happening,_ he wrote to her. _I don_ _’t want to be caught off guard again, but they’re all treating me like a child, not the person who saw Voldemort come back._

Matilda wrote back, _I haven_ _’t heard more than you have, so it might not be just you. They’re probably trying to keep things on the down-low so they don’t get caught. I’m sure they have a good reason, and I’m sure you’ll find out before long._

Unfortunately, this turned out to be true. Hermione’s letter a couple of weeks later said, _Harry_ _’s being tried at the Ministry for using magic outside school. I thought he might get reckless and do something rash because we can’t tell him anything for secrecy’s sake, but this is much worse—well, it’s better because he has a solid defence, which is exactly what happened. It was definitely self defence—he and his cousin were attacked by dementors!_

Matilda had remembered what Beatrice had said about the dementors last year, and dreaded the thought of anyone being attacked by them. She wondered if Beatrice might know something. The freshly-graduated Head Girl had continued to be supportive over the summer, even while she was still grieving for Cedric.

 _Beatrice,_ she wrote, _do you think something_ _’s going on with the dementors that they would just attack Harry and his cousin? Harry says that Dumbledore thinks that they have been recruited by Voldemort, but is that even possible?_

Beatrice’s reply came a few days later. _I don_ _’t know, honestly. In the last war, I’ve been told that he recruited the dementors, but that’s not exactly a guarantee they’ll do it again. They’re so volatile. My theory? Someone in the Ministry sent them to try and silence Potter, or try to build up the persona they’ve been creating. In any case, Potter needs to tread lightly, so as not to give them any more reason to spread rumours about him._

* * *

If she were honest with herself, Matilda didn’t have high hopes about her second year of Hogwarts being better than her first. It was more that her whole first year was tainted by Cedric’s murder than that it was bad overall, and things seemed to be going downhill. Now, Professor Dumbledore and Harry Potter said that Voldemort had come back, while the Ministry of Magic insisted they were just crazy or were trying to start a panic. She knew which one she believed. So, even though she didn’t know of anything specific to be afraid of this year, she could tell there were dark times ahead.

“They can’t think he’d just lie about it,” Matilda complained to Laura and Eleanor their first night back. Laura shrugged, but Eleanor stiffened. “Something the matter, El?”

Eleanor’s placid expression dropped into a scowl as she said, “You believe Potter, then?”

It was Matilda’s turn to straighten. “Yes, I do. I don’t think, after all this time—”

“But it’s not true!” Eleanor exclaimed. “Potter’s a lunatic, everyone says so.”

Laura tried to mediate. “It all seems a bit much. The Ministry probably just wants to keep everyone from panicking—”

“It makes no sense that he’s back,” Eleanor said stubbornly. “You-Know-Who’s dead, has been since the end of the war.”

“Is he, though?” Matilda asked. “From what I’ve heard people have always said he could come back. And who knows what magic he might’ve done—”

“No!” Eleanor shouted. “No, he didn’t! You’re muggle-born, Matilda. You didn’t grow up with Beedle the Bard. You don’t get it.”

Matilda stopped. Suddenly, quite a few things clicked into place. She sighed and closed her eyes. _“But inside the bush, Babbity smiled and did not trouble to lift her wand, for no magic can raise the dead,”_ she recited. She opened her eyes again and looked at Eleanor. “You know how much I read.”

“Then you should know how crazy it sounds to say You-Know-Who is back,” she replied.

“Loads of people thought he wasn’t really dead, though,” Laura said. “They never found a body, did they?”

“But other things happened. My dad says people who were under the Imperius Curse came out of it all at once. And his followers all started to go nuts, so _they_ knew something had happened. He’s gone, and we don’t need Potter starting a panic about it now.”

Matilda bit her tongue as she stopped herself from saying something hurtful. “I think it’s stupid to just dismiss such a threat outright.”

Of course, Eleanor took it the wrong way. “You think I’m stupid not to believe a scare tactic?”

“Eleanor, that’s not—” Laura tried to say.

“No, Laura,” Eleanor said, standing up. “I know what she meant. I’m out of here.”

Eleanor left the Common Room, leaving Laura and Matilda dismayed. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

Laura put an arm around Matilda’s shoulder consolingly. “Hey, she’ll come around. Trust me.”

“I hope so. I usually have some idea what to do about things, but ever since Cedric…”

“I know. We can’t really do anything except learn how to defend ourselves if the time comes.”

* * *

The biggest change for the new school year was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. Dolores Umbridge was a short woman dressed all in pink who had the attitude of a primary school teacher—and not a _good_ one like Jenny; a really patronising one. Rumours quickly got around the school that she had been sent by the Ministry of Magic to spy on Professor Dumbledore, on the excuse that Dumbledore hadn’t been able to find anyone to fill the post. (Supposedly the position was cursed, which might just be a tall tale, but Matilda had learnt early that tall tales like that just might be true.)

Matilda fully expected Umbridge to attract the ire of many students just for the fact that she toed the Ministry line against Dumbledore, but there were surprisingly many who believed the Ministry line and sided with her, as she’d seen with Eleanor. The new prefects, Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan, told off people for speaking too loudly against Potter, but it was clear the student body was divided there.

Umbridge’s classes, on the other hand, left a lot to be desired.

In their first Defence lesson of the year, Umbridge said she was going to teach a back-to-basics sort of class, which didn’t sound too bad to Matilda as a second year, until she realised that their textbook wasn’t about self-defence at all, but about non-violent conflict resolution (which, while valuable, wasn’t likely to do much good against Death Eaters). Also that Umbridge wasn’t actually trying to teach, and certainly wouldn’t let them practice any spells.

Like History class, Matilda resigned herself to reading library books on the subject and maybe finding a private place to practice spells after hours. That is, until Hermione Granger came to her and asked if she would like to join a study group that Harry Potter was going to lead in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“It’ll be very hush-hush,” Hermione said, “and it’s not just for classes. We need to be prepared, and it’s growing more and more obvious that Umbridge won’t teach us anything useful. We’ll be going at an upper-years pace, but I thought you might be interested because you’re so advanced in charms, and maybe your wandless magic could be useful.”

Matilda considered the idea. It would be nice to have someone teach them how to properly defend themselves, but there were some details she worried about.

“Where would we meet?” Matilda asked. “I can guess Umbridge would try to stop us if she knew, so it would have to be someplace she won’t find out about, right? We couldn’t just use a regular classroom.”

Hermione grimaced as she replied, “We haven’t thought of a place yet. I have a couple ideas, but they all have problems. Ron and I are looking for alternatives to the obvious places, but haven’t come up with anything satisfactory yet.”

Matilda nodded, lips pursed. “We have time to find somewhere, I guess. I’ll keep a lookout and let you know if I find somewhere. I’ll definitely join you, though.”

Hermione grinned. “Excellent, we’re meeting in the Hog’s Head Inn next Hogsmeade weekend. I know you’re a second year, so we can catch you up after we meet. Just don’t tell anyone until then.’”

* * *

Matilda’s anxiety grew over the next couple of weeks, as she waited for the Hogsmeade trip to happen and to hear an update from Hermione. Finally, the Monday after the Hogsmeade weekend, Matilda saw the new Educational Decree on the noticeboard in the Common Room. It forbade teams and groups from meeting, and as Matilda read it, her heart sank.

“You’ve noticed,” Hermione spoke with a grim expression when she caught up with her that afternoon. At Matilda’s nod, she said, “We did meet on Saturday, and we thought everything was safe. Somehow she must have sneaked a spy past us.”

“Then you don’t think it was anything else?” she asked.

“I don’t see what. It _does_ stop Harry from playing Quidditch, but that would be an awful lot of work just for that. And if someone _did_ report back to her, well, probably the only reason she didn’t do more is because she can’t prove anything. Incidentally, I don’t _think_ you would have told anyone, but—”

“Of course not,” Matilda said.

“Not even in the post.”

“Er, not yet. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell Jenny.”

“Don’t. Please. Harry’s owl was injured this morning, and we think Umbridge might be trying to intercept the post, too.”

“She’s reading our mail?” Matilda gasped.

“Trying to, at least. So if you _have_ to tell her, you’ll need to do it at Christmas.” She pulled out a sheet of parchment. “I had to ask because we signed a contract of secrecy at the meeting, and you were one of only two people who weren’t there. I was hoping—well, first, are you still in? We’re keeping it under wraps, so no one should get expelled for it.”

“If you know how to keep it secret, then yes. I can tell how important this is.”

“Alright. Then, you’ll need to sign the magical contract not to tell anyone.”

Hermione handed over the parchment, and Matilda read it. It said _Dumbledore_ _’s Army_ at the top, followed by a list of twenty-eight names. She noticed the last name was Dennis Creevey, who was in her year and wouldn’t have been at the meeting either. The contract part wasn’t written out at all. “A magical contract?” she asked.

“Yes,” Hermione insisted. “It’s not that bad, and I can reverse it in an emergency, but it will let everyone know if someone tells the secret.”

Matilda wasn’t quite as sure about that. Magical contracts could be tricky. She saw that with the Goblet of Fire last year. And she wouldn’t be able to tell Jenny anything without running it by Hermione first. But still, it was like Hermione said. Voldemort was back, and she wasn’t learning how to defend herself as things were. “Okay, I’ll sign,” she said, pulling out a quill. “Do you know where we’re going to meet yet?”

“Not yet. We’re still asking around. It’s going to be hard to hide a group of that size. But we’ll let you know where to go once we work it out.”

And so Matilda waited for the first meeting to be scheduled.

* * *

Evidently, it wasn’t as hard as she expected. “It’s a room on the seventh floor,” Hannah Abbott told her just two days later. “Across from a tapestry of a wizard trying to teach some trolls ballet. It’s pretty silly, actually. I went up to see it earlier.”

As the day wore on, Matilda noticed all those she knew to be involved seemed to be on edge, and she couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or nerves. That evening, Matilda joined several of her other housemates as they headed up to the seventh floor.

“I think I’ve heard of this place,” said Susan Bones. “Beatrice said something last year about a room that would only show up when you need it.”

Matilda nodded. “Yeah, I think I heard something like that. It seems like pretty sophisticated magic.”

The room proved to be a large training room. Harry had found the place, and apparently, it could transform into what you needed, so it was about as perfectly designed as it could be. After the introductions and a minor distraction from Zacharias Smith (who already had a reputation within Hufflepuff), Harry set them to practising the Disarming Jinx. As Dennis Creevey was the only other person there below fourth year Matilda paired up with him.

Matilda was pleased to see that Dennis got some response from his wand on the first try. However, his spells mostly kept spattering around the room and knocking books off the shelves. For her own part, she needed a few tries to get the spell working, but once she did, since it was a movement-based spell, it was second nature for her to switch to her off hand and do it wandlessly (although she suspected offensive spells would be harder). Dennis did manage to disarm her a couple times, but she summoned her wand back to herself as soon as he caught it.

“Boy, Honey,” he said, “even if someone _does_ disarm you, they’re not gonna be able to stop you!”

“I hope so, Creevey,” she said. She tried casting the spell silently as well as wandlessly, but she wasn’t quite there yet. _“Expelliarmus_ ,” she muttered, and she landed a jinx on Dennis. She caught his wand and levitated it back to him just as easily. “Now this is what DefenCe Against the Dark Arts should be like,” Matilda smiled.

* * *

It was time something was done about Professor Umbridge, Matilda thought.

She’d been mulling it over all week. Umbridge’s teaching, suppressing the truth about Voldemort, banning student groups, and Hermione’s claim that she was interfering with the post—they couldn’t let this go continue. Dumbledore’s Army was great for getting the instruction they were missing, but Umbridge was still foisting her toxicity on the rest of the school.

Unfortunately, this one was bigger than she was. Umbridge didn’t have an obvious button she could push like Trunchbull did, and the “vengeful spirit” trick wouldn’t work in the magical world regardless. She was going to need help.

A note discreetly levitated across to the Gryffindor Table during dinner was all she needed to put her plan into motion. Later that night, she waited in an empty classroom until Fred and George Weasley came to her.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said when they entered.

“What a surprise,” Twin One said. (She’d have to work on telling them apart.) “Miss Honey, is it?”

“What can we do for you this fine evening?” said Twin Two.

“I think it’s time someone did something to get rid of Professor Umbridge,” she told them.

They glanced at each other, and Twin One said, “We won’t argue with you there, but what were you thinking of doing?”

“I don’t know yet. I was hoping the three of us could talk about it and come up with something.”

Twin Two sat down at the desk in front of her, straddling the chair. “Well, I’m up for trying,” he said, “but I don’t know if there’s much we can do. Umbridge has the Ministry behind her, after all.”

Matilda shrugged: “She wouldn’t be the first bad teacher I’ve got rid of.”

Twin One raised his eyebrows. “Ooh, now I’m interested. It sounds like there’s a story there. Perhaps we’ve underestimated the little Hufflepuff, George.”

“Perhaps we have, Fred,” George replied. Matilda made an effort to note any differences she could spot on their faces. “I’m guessing this was at your muggle…primary thing?” She nodded. “Alright, enlighten us. Why did you feel the need to get rid of one of your teachers?”

“Actually, she was the Headmistress.”

Their jaws dropped. “Now we’ve _definitely_ gotta hear this,” Fred insisted.

“Okay,” she began. “When I was six, I started school at a place called Crunchem Hall. The Headmistress’s name was Miss Trunchbull.”

“Ew, sounds almost as bad as Umbridge.”

“Oh, she was _worse_ than Umbridge.”

The twins blinked and glanced at each other again. “Nah, I don’t buy it,” said Fred.

“Trust me, she was. Umbridge is incompetent and has it in for Dumbledore, but the Trunchbull was _evil_. My first day there, she threw a girl over the fence by her _hair_.”

“Wait, seriously? What for?”

“She was wearing pigtails, and they were against the rules.”

“Huh?”

“Some muggle schools have weird rules about how you can do your hair as part of the uniform…And I guess it was really for talking back, but still…”

“But still, Umbridge doesn’t seem the type to throw someone around by their hair, even if she could,” George finished for her.

“Exactly. And the worst part was that the Trunchbull was Jenny’s aunt.”

“Jenny?”

“My mum—only then, she was my Year 1 teacher. She adopted me after the Trunchbull was gone. The Trunchbull raised her from when she was five, and when she was seven, she broke both her arms.”

Fred and George gasped. That was _definitely_ something Umbridge wouldn’t do, if only for the sheer brutishness of it—and to someone that young.

“She wasn’t any better as Headmistress,” Matilda went on. “She didn’t allow anything colourful or fun in class. She’d crack a whip at kids who were trying to hide from her. She threw a boy out the window for eating in class. And _then_ , there was the _Chokey_.”

“The Chokey?”

“Yeah. It was a tiny cupboard in her office, just large enough to stand up in. There was a dripping pipe overhead, and the walls were lined with nails and broken glass. If she was _really_ mad, she’d lock you in there and leave you for hours.”

The twins were appalled at that one, even looking faintly ill. “You got stuck in there?” George asked her with concern.

“Once. For about an hour before Jenny rescued me.” She chuckled coldly. “It wasn’t even for something I did. My dad sold her a busted car—long story. So, yes, the Trunchbull was worse than Umbridge.”

Fred and George exchanged a solemn look. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but they looked back at her, and George said, “You haven’t heard about the Quill, have you?”

“What Quill?” Matilda said.

“It’s what Umbridge uses when she makes you write lines,” Fred explained. “It writes in blood.”

“When you write with it, it cuts the words into your hand,” George said. “Then it heals you…so you can do it again—except after a while, it doesn’t work so well.”

Now, it was Matilda’s turn to feel ill. That was a level of depravity that…well, as horrifying as it was, Trunchbull might have done that but for the fact that it would leave a mark. At her worst moments, she _did_ have the patience for something like that. Matilda swallowed and took a moment to steady herself. “Umbridge made you do that?” she asked softly.

“Not us,” Fred answered. “Harry.”

“He had to use it for his whole two weeks of detention,” George added.

“Past midnight some nights.”

“But do us a favour and don’t mention it around him? He doesn’t want it spreading around.”

Matilda was horrified. Forced to carve lines into your own hand over and over again was bad enough, but two whole _weeks_ , past midnight? That really was worse than anything the Trunchbull had come up with. And Harry? How many times must he have done that? Hundreds? _Thousands?_

And that was when, if she wasn’t sure before, she knew that Umbridge needed to go _now_.

“So, did this Trunchbull woman ever do anything like that?” Fred said.

“N-no,” she said shakily. “Not…not to kids, I mean…There was _one_ thing, though…It was never proven, but we’re pretty sure she killed Jenny’s father.”

Fred paled, and Matilda couldn’t blame him. Most people didn’t often have dealings with a murderer. “Okay, you win,” he said. “So, how did you get rid of her? Call the policemen or whoever?”

She shook her head: “No, they never investigated her because everything she did was too outrageous to believe. I used wandless magic. She didn’t know about magic or anything, but she was really superstitious. I pranked her to madk her think she was being haunted by the ghost of Jenny’s father. And then I got the whole school to throw food at her. That was kind of a lucky coincidence, but it worked.”

“You were good enough at magic to do that when you were six?”

“Uh huh. Honestly, I still don’t understand why that’s so surprising.”

“ _Well_ , you’ve definitely got the chops for this,” Fred pronounced. “How did you wanna handle Umbridge, then?”

“I don’t know,” she mused. “The biggest reason the Trunchbull ran away is that I scared her bad enough. Do we know if Umbridge is afraid of anything enough to flee the castle?”

“Ha. That’s obvious. She’s afraid of us forming an army and rising up against her,” Fred replied.

“But since we’re already doing that, and we definitely _don_ _’t_ want her to find out,” George countered, “that’s not very helpful.”

Matilda frowned. “No, I guess not…” she said. She thought for a few minutes while the twins tried to come up with ideas of their own.

“Say, George,” Fred suggested, “think we could make a fake You-Know-Who convincing enough to convince her he’s back?”

“Hmm…convincing, yes. Convincing to _her_ , no. It’d have to be out of school because there’s no way he’d be _in_ the school. And it’d have to be a situation where it’d make sense for him to show up—”

“Ooh, what if he’s trying to _recruit_ her? Everyone knows how she hates muggle-borns and half-breeds, after all.”

George guffawed at that idea. “That would be hilarious even though she’s too much of a Ministry flunky to agree. Think we could make it look like he’s casting Unforgivables without _actually_ casting Unforgivables?”

“Ah, good question. Maybe file that for future use.”

Matilda smiled. That _did_ sound like it would be funny, even if it wouldn’t be much use to their current problem. This still seemed like something that would need a school oriented solution. Maybe… “You know,” she spoke up, “you might still be half-right about that rising up against her bit.”

They looked up at her and spoke in unison: “How’s that?”

“Well, what’s _any_ teacher’s worst fear?”

“I dunno. We don’t usually go that general,” Fred replied. “What is it?”

“Losing control of her students. There are more of us than there are of her, and if we ever act on that, she’s lost. We just can’t do it in an organised way that looks like an army or something.”

The twins considered that for a moment, and then both said, “No, that won’t work.”

“What? Why not?” she said in surprise.

“You must’ve had a special case with your Trunchbull woman,” George explained. “Normally, people in power are a lot harder to get rid of, and Umbridge has all the power here.” Matilda furrowed her brow, uncomprehending. He could see she wasn’t getting it, so he went on, “Look, if Trunchbull went to the…who do you have in charge?”

“The…superintendent?”

“Maybe? Is that, like, of the town.”

“No, that’s the Mayor.”

“The Mayor, yes. What if she went to the Mayor?” George said.

“After you chased her out of the school, we mean,” Fred added.

“Right. Would the Mayor have taken her side?”

She considered that. She barely knew who the Mayor was now, let alone then. She didn’t have anything to go on. “Maybe…” she said, “but he would’ve listened to other evidence. They weren’t friends or anything.”

“Exactly!” Fred exclaimed.

“‘Cause Umbridge _is_ friends with Fudge,” said George.

“At least, I hope they’re _only_ friends.”

“Ew. I didn’t need to hear that, Freddie.”

“Hey, I call ‘em as I see ‘em, Georgie.”

“Ugh. Too much. Anyway, if you try to get Umbridge in trouble, Fudge’ll just take her side.”

“And if you try to take control of the school, she’ll come back with Ministry force, and they _can_ win,” Fred told her.

“Plus, she’ll think any kind of plan like that is part of Dumbledore’s evil plot.”

“Same if you just scare her away. She can come back with Aurors.”

That was when Matilda really started to think this was going to be harder, maybe even impossible, she feared. Perhaps she really did get lucky with the Trunchbull. Everyone in school hated Umbridge, just like Trunchbull, but outside the school walls, things were different. If the police had ever _seriously_ investigated Trunchbull, she’d be in prison right now, even if they hadn’t found out about Magnus. Umbridge could just ask the Minister for Magic to stop any investigation. Heck, as High Inquisitor, she was _running_ the investigation.

“You don’t think they’re any way we can get rid of her?” she asked.

Fred and George shook their heads. “Not a way that’ll stick, sorry,” Fred replied.

“Trust us. Dumbledore’s been trying to do something about it, and even he can’t get past Fudge,” George agreed.

“Yeah. We know…er…”

“We have some information that not just anyone has on the subject,” he explained. “Keep that under your hat, though.”

Matilda nodded. “Okay,” she thought out loud. “So scaring her or overpowering her won’t work. The other reason Trunchbull left is because we humiliated her.”

“Heh. Pranking’s always fun,” they agreed.

“But same problem,” said George.

“Do that with Umbridge, and it might just make her angry,” said Fred.

She shook her head. “It will at first, but Trunchbull was always angry, and we still got rid of her. I still think there’s got to be more to it than that.”

The twins shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, but we don’t know what it would be,” George said.

“We can make her life pretty miserable here if you want,” Fred suggested, “although we were kind of saving that for a special occasion.”

Matilda shrugged in return. “It couldn’t hurt,” she said, and then, the spark of an idea formed. “Actually, you might be onto something, Fred.”

“I’m George,” Fred cut in.

“Huh? But you said…” She stopped herself from taking the bait. “Never mind. If we want Umbridge to leave, we need to make _her_ want to leave.”

“Okaaay…but how do we do that,” asked…whoever he was.

“She may have all the power, but if her job gets hard enough, she can still get frustrated or fed up—or embarrassed.” The wheels were turning, now. “We need to humiliate Umbridge _so bad_ that she won’t _want_ to stay at Hogwarts. And we have to get her in ways that she won’t connect with Dumbledore. Things the other teachers won’t officially approve, and that aren’t threatening enough to call the Aurors, but are still really embarrassing.”

Fred’s and George’s eyes widened as the answer dawned on them, and Matilda grinned.

“We need the prank war to end all prank wars.”

* * *

At Matilda’s suggestion, they decided to go Muggle for their first prank against Umbridge—well, partially.

“It’s a fake rat,” Matilda explained to the twins, holding up the very realistic prop she’d procured from a Ravenclaw in her Charms class. “We multiply them by… well, a lot, and put them in her office. It will inconvenience her at least, and at most, she’ll refuse to be in her office for a while, until Filch cleans them up. Plus, it’s thematic with all those weirdly creepy pictures of kittens.”

“Interesting,” George said. “We haven’t really done muggle tricks before. I mean, we’ve dabbled, but we haven’t really used them for pranks.”

Matilda grinned. “You’ll learn a lot from me, boys. Care to do the honours, Fred?”

Fred took out his wand. “It would be my pleasure, Honey.” Pointing his wand at the rather realistic looking fake rodent, he said, “ _Geminio._ _”_

The rats immediately began to multiply. When there were around forty, Fred cancelled the spell. They all looked around at their handiwork.

“This will be a perfect start to our crusade,” Matilda grinned.

Later that day, the three of them went to Umbridge’s office, the fake rats stuffed into their temporarily empty packs.

“She should be leaving soon,” George said. “Lee said that he heard her telling Flitwick she had to go to the Ministry for a quick meeting. I’ll bet she’s making a report to Fudge.”

Matilda smirked. “A bit premature, wouldn’t you agree?”

They waited in a nearby alcove for several minutes, and eventually they saw her leave the office and seal it. As soon as she was out of sight, they converged on the door.

“She needs a better security system,” Fred shook his head in mock regret, pulling out his wand and casting, “ _Alohomora!_ _”_ on the door. It opened slowly, and they entered.

For the next few minutes, the three of them set about placing the rodents in the most inconvenient places they could find. Finally, they ran out of rats, and quickly left the office and relocked the door. No need to stay longer than necessary and risk being caught.

“Let’s wait in the alcove for her to get back,” Matilda said. They returned to their hiding place. It took about a half hour, but finally, they heard footsteps. They watched as Umbridge returned, unlocking her office and entering. The next moment was exactly as they had wanted it to be. They heard a scream from the office, and Umbridge ran back out of the office in terror. Matilda and the twins barely concealed their laughter as she passed, and when she did, burst out in guffaws.

“Honey, that was brilliant!” George exclaimed. “It went a lot better than I expected.”

“Reckon she thought they were real?” asked Fred.”

“Could be. So, what’s next?”

* * *

The next few weeks were filled with brainstorming ways to make Umbridge’s life difficult without seeming to actually do so. Matilda insisted that she would only prank people when they were doing something wrong, but such inciting incidents weren’t hard to come by.

The obvious next step was to use live animals. The Twins’ friend Lee Jordan had somehow acquired a Niffler, a rather cute looking creature that resembled a platypus. Umbridge had caught on enough to lock her door, so they sent it through her window, where it promptly destroyed her office in its search for shiny things. Matilda was delighted to hear that the creature had attacked Umbridge, biting at her fingers to get her rings.

One of Matilda’s favourite pranks was after the first snow in December, when Fred and George built a modified version of their Portable Swamp and turned the corridor outside Umbridge’s classroom into an ice rink. Defence Against the Dark Arts had to be cancelled for the whole day because she couldn’t get to her own classroom, and some of the students decided to skate up and down the corridor to taunt her. There were also rumours of some kind of House-elf ice hockey match going on, to which she shook her head and moved on. That was Hogwarts, for you.

The Twins’ favourite prank was one Matilda had mentioned in passing after seeing their trick wands. It apparently took them several weeks to get it just right, but they said it was payback; they had loads of spare time after Umbridge banned them from the Quidditch Team.

The hardest part, they said, was slipping the fake wand to Umbridge so that she would pull it out instead of her real one. It happened right before lunch, so the whole school got to see the result when she stomped to the Great Hall in search of Professor Flitwick to undo it. When she waved the fake wand, it changed into a black plastic wand with white tips. Then, when she waved it again in surprise, her pink suit changed into a muggle magician’s tuxedo complete with top hat and cape, which resulted in barely-contained laughter in students and teachers alike. The fake wand promptly burst into flames, but the tuxedo remained.

* * *

Their pranking kicked up several notches in the spring, though. It began with a meeting of the DA. Everyone went silent as they heard a crack. They all saw a small House-elf in the middle of the room. The poor thing looked absolutely terrified, pulling at its ears and sobbing.

Harry stepped forward, trying to comfort the elf. “Dobby, what’s going on?”

The elf continued to pull at its ears as it said, “Dobby has come to—Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter—”

Harry immediately grew anxious. “Warn? Dobby, warn me about what?”

“She— _she_ —” Dobby stopped speaking, seemingly compelled. “Coming—”

Harry pressed on. “Dobby, who is she? Is it Umbridge?”

Dobby practically screamed, “ _Yes!_ _”_

Harry straightened, looking around at everyone staring around him, dumbstruck. _“Don’t just stand there!”_ he demanded. “ _Run!_ _”_

This sent everyone into action, and they dashed out of the Room and through the halls.

“Everyone scatter!” Matilda called to the other Hufflepuff as they started running in the same direction. That way, even if some of them were caught, most of them would be safe. She turned down a corridor and merged into a small group of Ravenclaws who seemed to have just come from the library.

“That was entirely too close,” Hannah Abbott whispered once everyone was accounted for in the Common Room. Matilda nodded, heart still pounding.

* * *

But the next day, Hermione told her the full story. The rest of the school hadn’t been so lucky.

“Dumbledore’s gone,” she said, worry tingeing her tone. “He took the blame for us, and they tried to arrest him. He used his phoenix to escape, and no one knows where he went. Umbridge has made herself Headmistress.”

Matilda sighed as she said, “Of course she did. This is madness. She’s willing to do all this just to pretend that nothing’s wrong. It’s obvious they know they’re lying, or they wouldn’t be trying so hard.”

Hermione nodded. “I know. But we won’t be making it easier for them. I heard that Fred and George were already planning something.”

As soon as Matilda could, she went to find the twins.

“What are you planning?” She asked them.

George grinned. “Honey, we're only coming up with the perfect first day gift for our new Headmistress.”

Matilda grinned. “Tell me.”

* * *

The plan, they decided, would be well-served by a bit of help from Matilda, since she could levitate things without being noticed. Umbridge might know she was _capable_ of it, but she’d never be able to prove anything.

Most of the plan for Umbridge’s first day as Headmistress consisted of an elaborate fireworks show. However, the centrepiece would involve a little more personal attention. As Umbridge was running through the corridors trying to get rid of the fireworks, she came to the Entrance Hall, and suddenly, all the doors to that hall slammed shut. The torches blew out, and black curtains rose from the floor to cover the windows, billowing about to create a flickering effect.

Umbridge stopped and stared, and the straggling students in the Entrance Hall stared with her, including one Matilda Honey. Amid the strobing curtains, the statue of the Architect seemed to come to life and step down from its plinth, although _that_ was just an illusion. It was actually a hooded figure in black robes pulling away from the statue, its face too shrouded to see clearly, but with glowing red eyes peering from under the hood. It extended a pale hand toward Umbridge, and a serpentine voice hissed.

“Join me, Doloresss Umbridge,” it said. “Join me, and we will rule the world together.”

Umbridge was frantically waving her wand, but to little effect. Fred and George had enchanted the figure similarly to the fireworks, and Umbridge didn’t seem all that competent.

“Do not resissst. You cannot defeat me,” the hissing continued.

“No! No! Get away! Get away!” Umbridge screamed. Whatever she thought the figure was, she was more terrified than Matilda expected.

Matilda made the doors rattle as if from enemies trying to get in. This was some tricky magic, but no one was stopping her, or even really paying attention. The other students were backed up against the far wall. They _were_ trying to force the doors from the outside, though, so she slammed them open and waved them about instead.

A green sparkler began drawing in the air. Instead of writing swear words, this one began drawing a snake emerging from the mouth of a skull—much less detailed than the true Dark Mark, but still recognisable.

“You already ssserve me,” the figure hissed as it drew. “With Albusss Dumbledore gone, Hogwartsss is _mine._ ”

Most of the students screamed. That might have been a little much.

“No! Shut up! It’s a trick!” Umbridge shouted, finally getting her wits about her. Stop this _right now!_ ”

The Weasley Twins must have decided that was enough. Other teachers were rushing in as it was. At that moment, the “Dark Mark” exploded, showering green sparks over the Entrance Hall as it formed into a new shape. Matilda released her enchantments.

The sparklers now spelt out _BOO_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: A little nonsense now and then, is cherished by the wisest JK Rowling and Roald Dahl.
> 
> Parts of this chapter have been quoted from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Fred’s and George’s prediction came true in the following weeks: Umbridge did lose control of her students, and it didn’t stop her.

The mayhem died down after that first day, but the pranks continued. Umbridge didn’t let her relative lack of allies stop her, though. She decided to get around the prefects by appointing Malfoy and some of his friends to something called the Inquisitorial Squad and giving them the power to dock points. This backfired when they took all the points away from the other houses, and everyone promptly stopped caring. Even so, Malfoy seemed to avoid going after Matilda. Maybe he did remember her saving him last year.

Filch was threatening to start whipping troublemakers once the next Educational Decree came in. Since that was something Trunchbull had done, Matilda decided to have some special pranks saved up just for him. Tie-dyeing his cat (humanely) sounded like a good start. The image of a cerulean and pink Mrs. Norris caused Matilda to grin herself silly for days.

Two weeks later, Fred and George flew out of the school in a blaze of glory to start their own joke shop (and to avoid Filch’s whips). They left even more chaos behind in their wake. (Matilda tried learning to walk on water to get through their Portable Swamp, to little success.) After their departure, the pranks only increased. Instead of just the three of them, _everyone_ was pranking Umbridge and Filch _and_ the Inquisitorial Squad any chance they got. (It was great cover for her own efforts.) Matilda was thankful that they avoided interfering with any of the other teachers. Otherwise, no one would be learning anything.

On one memorable occasion, Matilda was stalking Filch in preparation for her latest prank when someone spoke far too close behind her.

“Ickle Honey, up to no good,” the sing-song voice said.

Matilda barely restrained herself from jumping and shouting as she spun around, coming face to face with a little, floating man who looked like a court jester.

“Peeves, don’t sneak up on me like that,” she whispered.

“Just try and stop me, girlie,” he said. “What are _you_ doing skulking around here? That’s _my_ job.”

She eyed Peeves suspiciously for a moment, but decided since he’d been doing his part in the prank war (despite the tarantulas in the breakfast food being ill-advised), she could share. She opened the bag she’d collected from the Portable Swamp to show him. “I’m going to dump a bunch of newts on Umbridge and Filch the next time they try to give one of their lectures,” she said. “It’s a classic from my old school. What about you?”

She looked down. Peeves was carrying an armoured helmet made for a horse.

“Gonna glue this on Filch’s head,” Peeves said with a grin. “Let’s put some of your newts inside.”

She giggled. That sounded like an even better idea—and one that twigged her memory. She grinned at Peeves. “Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be!”

“I dunno what that means, but let’s go!” Peeves said.

She hadn’t thought it was possible, but that one turned out to be even funnier than when the Trunchbull was flailing around over a newt in the middle of class. Peeves had nailed the timing, too; there were plenty of witnesses. But for all of this, nothing could make Umbridge abandon her post as Headmistress. Matilda’s hopes of embarrassing her enough to make her lose her grip were disappointed, but she remained determined.

* * *

The disaster began on the last day of exams. Matilda went down to breakfast and was soon told that her Transfiguration final had been cancelled because Professor McGonagall had been hurt.

That was a surprise in itself, but the rumours were flying fast and furious just under the surface of the student body, which was outwardly muted by exams and avoidance of Umbridge. No one was quite sure about what happened. Some said McGonagall had been attacked. Some even said she was dead, but they were quickly shot down by the older students. The other teachers couldn’t publicly say anything because of Educational Decree Twenty-Five, although she did hear that Professor Hagrid was gone as well, which seemed to be related.

Matilda eventually learnt that the fifth-years taking their Astronomy O.W.L. last night had seen the whole thing. She tried to talk to Hannah Abbott about it, but Hannah was preoccupied with her upcoming History of Magic exam. It was only at lunch that she got the full story from Susan Bones.

“It was terrible,” Susan said. “I’ve already written to my Aunt Amelia. She’s the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so she should be on top of these things. Umbridge showed up at _half eleven_ with four Aurors to arrest Hagrid. I don’t even know what for. I thought she could only fire him.

“Anyway, Hagrid put up a fight, and McGonagall must have heard because she ran out of the castle to stop them. But she got halfway to Hagrid’s cabin and—” She sniffed. “The Aurors _all_ just stunned her on the spot! No warning! McGonagall sure didn’t cast a spell. I don’t think I even heard Umbridge shout an order. I don’t know if you know, Honey, but too many Stunners can stop your heart, and McGonagall took four to the chest. She’s alive, but I heard a rumour they transferred her to St. Mungo’s overnight…I really hope Aunt Amelia will discipline those Aurors. They’re supposed to follow rules of engagement and stuff.”

Matilda could hardly breathe as she processed this information. Umbridge trying to arrest Hagrid in the dead of night? McGonagall in the hospital. All of this on top of Dumbledore being gone? The thought of all the damage Umbridge had caused made her sick.

“Honey, are you okay?” Susan asked.

Matilda realised she was trembling. She looked down at her hands. Her fists were clenched, knuckles white. With an effort, she unclenched them. Just when she thought Umbridge couldn’t get any worse. The Aurors—the _police_ —had put Professor McGonagall in the hospital, unprovoked, and apparently on Umbridge’s orders. Enough was enough.

“No more Miss Nice Girl,” she said to herself.

* * *

The hardest part of her plan was finding an opportunity to carry it out. Matilda would need access to Umbridge’s office for long enough to rig the prank without being noticed. Now that exams were wrapping up, that wasn’t a sure thing.

She wasn’t sure how this had happened. This was the first time she was deliberately—well, _knowingly_ —plotting something that could get someone seriously hurt. She didn’t want to _maim_ Umbridge or anything, but whenever she thought about her usual fare, it just didn’t feel adequate anymore.

She tailed Umbridge off and on over the course of the day, considering the problem. She’d just about decided to give it up and try to get her during dinner when a golden opportunity presented itself to her. Ron Weasley ran up to Umbridge and told her that Peeves was smashing up the Transfiguration Department at the opposite end of the castle—and Umbridge believed him! Maybe Matilda should have thought of that herself. But true or not, she was close enough to the entrance that it should give her just enough time. She sprinted out the front door and along the wall to the spot directly under the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor’s office window.

Matilda wasn’t sure how Umbridge had failed to fix this hole in her security—or alternatively, how no one else had thought of this before. If Lee Jordan could levitate a niffler in through her window, why couldn’t someone climb in themselves from a broomstick? She knew Umbridge had locked down all the school brooms, but some people had their own. Maybe there was some magical protection against brooms in particular?

Well, Matilda didn’t need a broom. It wasn’t supposed to be possible to levitate yourself with magic, but there was an obvious loophole to that. What she _had_ learnt from her attempts to walk on water was that with her wandless magic, she could literally lift herself up by her bootstraps. She jumped—and rose two stories up to reach the window of Umbridge’s office.

She really hoped that looked more impressive than it felt. She nearly lost her balance and strung herself up by her ankles.

 _“Harry!”_ a yelp came from inside the office when she grabbed onto the windowsill, and Matilda saw a sight she did not expect. Hermione Granger was already there in the office, her face pale and her wand out. Harry Potter stood beside her in front of a fireplace green with Floo Powder. “Oh, it’s you Matilda,” Hermione said with relief.

“What are you doing here?” Harry said testily, giving her a scrutinising look.

“Me?” Matilda checked to make sure there was no one else in the office. “Payback for Professor McGonagall. What about you? What’s going on?”

“Er…” Hermione drew out the word like she really didn’t want to answer. “Family emergency,” she said. She pursed her lips: “You heard about Professor McGonagall? Did anyone manage to get the real story?”

Matilda nodded. “I heard at least most of it from Susan Bones. Have you heard anything else? Is she okay?”

“Don’t know,” Hermione shrugged helplessly. “I hope—”

“Hermione.” Harry’s voice was strained and annoyed. “We’re wasting time. Umbridge could come at any minute.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes, yes. Go on.”

Matilda watched as Harry leaned into the fireplace. “Do I want to know?” she asked.

Hermione’s expression grew tense again as she said, “Probably not. Harry needs to check something, and then…well, I don’t know, to tell you the truth. I don’t want you to know too much if something goes wrong.”

Matilda nodded in understanding. “All right, then. I won’t ask more questions. I’m just here to set up a trap for Umbridge.”

“I’m supposed to keep watch just in case Umbridge comes back. A couple of friends are out in the corridor and they’ll warn us if she’s coming.”

Matilda nodded and got to work. First, she used her wand to write large letters on the wall: _If you mess with the cat, you get the claws. T_ hat should be the part that took the longest if she played her cards right—literally. To make the main part of the prank work, she had convinced one of the N.E.W.T. Charms students to enchant a deck of cards for her. She pulled the deck out of her pocket and, with a flourish of her arms, used her wandless magic to spread them in an array around the office. All she needed to do was to affix each one to one of Umbridge’s chintzy kitten plates, which she should be able to do in one go.

Before she could, the office door opened with a loud bang, and the enchantment kicked in. All fifty-two cards flew through the air and straight at Professor Umbridge, just like they were _supposed_ to do with the plates.

Umbridge yelped and swatted at the cards like a swarm of bugs, but she wasn’t deterred from her mission. She stomped in, flanked by Draco Malfoy and one of the other upper-year Slytherins.

“Stop them!” Umbridge shouted.

Matilda’s eyes widened as Malfoy raised his wand to her. _“Expelliarmus!”_ he said.

She reacted fast, wandlessly throwing a Disarming Charm back at him while her wand was still in the air. His own wand flew out of his hand, and she pulled it to her. But Malfoy didn’t stop. She didn’t have enough room to run, and he rushed at her and snagged her by her robes. There was a scuffle. She tried to push him away magically and physically, but she didn’t have any leverage. Before she knew it, she felt Malfoy wrest his wand from her hands and pin her arms behind her back.

Umbridge had at this point yanked Harry out of the fireplace by his hair, all but spitting fire as she snarled at him.

_“I had Stealth Sensoring Spells placed all around my doorway after—”_

_CRASH!_

_“OUCH!”_ Umbridge spun around the room, staring, still dragging Harry by the hair. A plate had smashed over her head. “Who did that?” she demanded. “Take their wands!”

Matilda still couldn’t break free of Malfoy’s grip. Hermione and Harry were fighting Umbridge and the other Slytherin. She had to do something fast before this got even worse. “Sorry, Malfoy,” she said honestly. With a twitch of her eyes, another plate flew off the wall and hit him.

“GAH—!”

At that moment, there was a loud commotion as four more members of the Inquisitorial Squad dragged in four more of Harry’s and Hermione’s friends, all of whom had been gagged. Outnumbered and already in big trouble, Matilda decided desperate times called for desperate measures. She pelted the whole gang with kitten plates. There were shouts, thuds, and grunts as Harry and his friends fought back.

It looked like it might actually work until she heard Malfoy say, _“Obscuro,”_ and a blindfold covered her eyes. Moments later, she felt her hands bound in ropes, and she was trapped along with the rest of them.

Umbridge started interrogating Harry, but he wasn’t talking. Next, she tried Hermione, who refused to respond at all, before coming to Matilda. “You, little girl. Who was Potter talking to?”

Matilda stood up straighter. “I don’t know, Professor. I got here after they made the call.”

“Liar. How did you get in here if you weren’t with them?”

She hesitated. Should she tell her? Would it make a difference if she did?

Hermione decided for her: “She came in through the window. We had no idea she would be here.”

Umbridge didn’t seem to find this believable. “Through the window? What do you take me for? I know if a broom gets anywhere near this office. There’s no way to climb that wall, and unless you’re telling me a second-year could levitate herself up here…”

However, it was Malfoy who spoke up, “I think she can, Headmistress. She can do wandless magic. She’s really powerful, especially with levitation. She used it to stop Moody last year when…” Matilda couldn’t help a moment of satisfaction when he hesitated to explain the full extent of the situation. “Er, and she did it just now with the plates! I took her wand, but I had to blindfold her to stop her!”

There was silence in the office for a minute. No one contradicted Malfoy, though. “I see…” Umbridge said. “Very well. We will deal with _that_ bit of unnaturalness later. Send for Professor Snape.”

Professor Snape arrived a few minutes later. Umbridge wanted him to interrogate Harry using truth serum, but he informed her that she’d already used all of it—to interrogate Harry! That was worrying on multiple levels. Umbridge’s response was to put Snape on probation. And then Harry started yelling at Snape, and Matilda was lost.

_“He’s got Padfoot!” he shouted. “He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden!”_

_What?_ she thought. He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden? It sounded like some kind of code, but whether Snape didn’t understand it or was playing dumb she couldn’t tell. It didn’t sound like he gave any sort of response.

With Snape a dead end, Umbridge kept demanding to know who or what this Padfoot was, or else Professor Dumbledore. When no one volunteered information, she finally said, _“I have no choice. The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue.”_

 _Bloody hell!_ Matilda thought. Umbridge was going to _literally_ torture him for information? And Harry might not even know where Dumbledore was! She _had_ to get this blindfold off! What could she do? Could she cut through the ropes by touch? She started trying, but the ropes were quite tightly bound. She could tell it would take a minute.

Once again, Hermione beat her to the punch, revealing (or claiming to reveal) the location of a weapon Professor Dumbledore had tasked them with preparing. That...didn’t sound like Dumbledore’s style from when she’d met him, but Umbridge believed it, and she marched Harry and Hermione out of the office, leaving the rest of them with the Inquisitorial Squad.

The shuffling feet quickly became distant noise. Everyone else being gagged, no one spoke except for some vague jeering from the Slytherins. Matilda finally broke the silence.

“Malfoy, I really am sorry about the plate,” she said. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I couldn’t let Umbridge do that to Potter. Not after seeing teachers treat students like that before—like that fake Professor Moody did to you.”

Matilda couldn’t see Malfoy’s face, but she could imagine that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with holding a twelve year old girl hostage. “I-um… thank you.” His voice was hesitant, still with the edge she knew, but not as full of the relish of punishment.

“You gotta admit, that _was_ pretty funny,” one of the other boys said. It must have been one of the sixth- or seventh-years since none of them in Malfoy’s year would antagonise him. “Ol’ Moody has you bouncing around all over the Entrance Hall, and then this tiny muggle-born first-year swoops in and saves you.”

“Yeah? I didn’t see any of _you_ trying to help, Warrington,” Malfoy said. “What happened to Slytherin solidarity?”

“Well, sure, we’d help against another student,” he said. “But none of _us_ are fool enough to go against someone that curse-happy.”

“Besides, Moody had it in for anyone he thought was ‘Dark,’” a girl said. “He’d have nailed us in a second if any of us pulled a wand. You’re lucky Honey was there to save you. I bet not many Puffs would.” There were snickers from the other Slytherins.

This seemed to rub Malfoy the wrong way, as his next words were back to his normal tone. “I don’t need help from filthy little mudbloods like her!” he sneered.

Matilda pursed her lips. “Fine, next time I’ll just let you be humiliated, and you can take your chances about breaking your neck.”

Malfoy didn’t answer, but a moment later, there was a loud grunt and a thud from across the office. She felt Malfoy’s grip slacken, and she took a chance that the Slytherins were distracted by something. She let the now-severed ropes fall from her hands and pulled the blindfold off her head. In one smooth motion, she turned around and pointed her hands at Malfoy and the girl who had been holding Hermione. _“Expelliarmus!”_ she cried, catching them by surprise.

It was only after she had their wands that she looked around. Ron Weasley was in a fistfight with Warrington, having apparently thrown the both of them to the floor. The others had likewise used the distraction to free themselves and sprung into action. The odd Ravenclaw girl, Luna Lovegood, was quickest, snatching their wands from the desk and tossing them to everyone. Hexes started flying; Matilda was particularly fascinated as Ginny cast a spell on Malfoy, which caused bats to crawl out of his nose.

Finally, the minor battle ended, leaving all of the Inquisitorial Squad except Malfoy, still fighting the bogeys, unconscious. Everyone looked around to check on their friends.

“Is everyone okay?” Neville Longbottom asked, standing up and brushing himself off. He himself had a black eye. A chorus of confirmation sounded from everyone.

“I’m good,” Ron said, even though his lip was bleeding. He scanned the room, taking stock. “Honey, did you get Harry and Hermione’s wands?”

“Yes, here they are,” Matilda said. She levitated the wands over to him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head: “You should probably stay out of it.”

“But—” she started.

“Listen, Honey,” Ron said, cutting her off. “We need to go help Harry and Hermione. We can’t tell you what it’s about, but it’s really important. And dangerous, probably. We don’t want you to get hurt. You’re not a part of this. You should probably go back to your dorm now. You don’t want to be here when Umbridge gets back.”

Matilda looked around the room. Yes, it would probably be bad if Umbridge came back and found her the only one still standing in the office and the rest of Harry’s friends escaped. “All right, then,” she acquiesced. “Let me know you’re alright, if you can.”

Ron nodded. “Sure thing. Let’s go.”

Harry’s friends all hurried out, and Matilda started for the door. Before she left, she tossed Millicent Bulstrode’s wand to her and walked up to Malfoy, who was still trying to fight off the bats circling his head. “I really thought you would understand,” she said. “Anyway, here’s your wand back.”

Matilda placed it in his robe pocket, and walked out of the door.

* * *

The morning after the confrontation with Umbridge, things seemed to get even worse. It was shocking yesterday when she’d learnt that Professor McGonagall had been sent to St. Mungo’s after being attacked by Aurors. This morning, there were even more rumours flying. Her fellow Hufflepuffs were hearing them second- and third-hand, but at breakfast, people were already telling wild stories about students being carried to the Hospital Wing on stretchers, frantic letters from parents at the Ministry of Magic saying that Voldemort was back, and Umbridge being carried off by a herd of angry centaurs. And then, to the shock (and thunderous applause) of the entire school, Dumbledore showed up at breakfast completely out of the blue. He looked downcast compared with his usual self, but he accepted their applause graciously.

“Was Harry Potter really there?” Matilda asked Susan Bones (who would probably be the best authority on the subject) as she absently bit into a bagel.

Susan shrugged. “I’m not sure. Aunt Amelia’s note only said You-Know-Who was back, and they caught a bunch of Death Eaters. I wasn’t even sure what Potter had to do with it. I only know what you said last night about Umbridge dragging him off to the Forest. Do you know anything else?”

“Not really, but Potter made a Floo call to someone right before Umbridge caught us. Hermione said he had a ‘family emergency’, and Ron Weasley said they had to do something they couldn’t tell me about, but it was...er, important and probably dangerous.”

“Hm…” Susan said thoughtfully. “Well, I’m not sure about the family emergency, but the timeline fits. If Potter somehow knew You-Know-Who was at the Ministry and tried to expose him—It’s stupid, but it sounds like something he might do.”

“Did anyone get hurt?” Matilda asked worriedly. “I mean, fighting Death Eaters—Voldemort himself!”

Susan flinched. “Can you not say his name, please? Aunt Amelia told me there’s one Auror in St. Mungo’s, but no one died. And I heard from Lavender Brown that a couple of people are in the Hospital Wing. I don’t know what for, though.”

So after breakfast, Matilda excused herself and hurried to the Hospital Wing. She found it a bustle of activity. Five of the six students who were with her in Umbridge’s office last night were in beds there, with only Harry absent. She looked for Hermione, but she found her pale and unconscious, with Madam Pomfrey fussing over her, and the brief glance the Matron shot Matilda made it clear she would brook no interruption.

“Honey?” Ginny Weasley called, waving to her. “Over here.”

Matilda rushed to Ginny’s bedside. She seemed to be the least hurt of the bunch. She looked fine, in fact, aside from a splint on her ankle. Her brother, on the other hand, was unconscious next to Hermione with bandages on his arms. Neville Longbottom was sporting an ugly bloody nose that he didn’t have last night, and Luna Lovegood was lying down with an icepack on her head.

“Ginny, what happened?” Matilda asked frantically.

“Death Eaters,” Ginny spat. “It was…” She hesitated, but then blurted out, “It was a trap!”

“A trap?” Matilda gasped. She flicked her eyes across the Infirmary again, struggling with which question to ask first. “Where’s Harry?” she said.

“He was fine—physically, anyway. Dumbledore was talking to him.”

“Dumbledore was just at breakfast,” she said. “I didn’t see Harry anywhere.”

Ginny frowned. “He’s probably brooding. He’ll be along later on, I’m sure.” She didn’t offer any other explanation.

“And Hermione?” Matilda asked worriedly.

Matilda jumped when Madam Pomfrey called across the room: “Miss Granger will make a full recovery, Miss Honey, but she’s not in any condition to be seeing visitors just now.”

“She was hit with a dark curse,” Ginny explained. “You might be better off coming back later when she’s awake, Honey. You can get the full story from her. I don’t completely know all of it myself.”

Matilda bit her lip and looked around the room, debating her desire not to leave her friend with the fact that there didn’t seem to be anything productive to be done by staying. “What about the rest of you?” she asked.

“We’ll be fine. We’re just waiting for Madam Pomfrey to finish with Hermione...Ron did get attacked by some brains, but if we’re lucky, maybe some extra brain will improve him.” She smirked.

Matilda opened her mouth, then shut it again. _Brains?_ “I don’t know…” she said.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, I can come find you once Hermione’s awake. Ron was right last night; you don’t need to be a part of this. Go have fun. We need more of that around here.”

“Well...alright, then,” she said uncertainly.

“Oh, by the way, thanks for helping us beat Malfoy and his cronies last night,” Ginny added. “You’ve got some real style.”

Matilda blushed. “Thanks, Ginny. I just did what I had to, though.”

* * *

Hermione finally woke up that afternoon. When Matilda returned to the Infirmary to see her, she received another surprise. Professor Dumbledore had brought Dolores Umbridge in at some point. The woman looked poorly, smeared with dirt and with twigs and leaves in her hair and staring off into space, seemingly catatonic. From her appearance, Matilda guessed that Madam Pomfrey had given her only the required minimum of care.

Hermione spotted her entering and waved her over, but Matilda flinched when she saw her. Hermione still looked deathly pale, and she was propped up on pillows, unable to sit up on her own. A nasty bruise was visible on her chest above the neckline of her hospital gown. There were also an alarming number of potion bottles on the side table next to the usual glass of water. Madam Pomfrey warned Matilda sternly not to disturb her too much.

“They’re each for a different organ,” Hermione said when she saw her eyeing the potions. Her voice was weak and rasping. “The curse Dolohov used…well, you probably don’t want to know…I’m glad I passed out after that.”

“I was so worried when I saw you before,” Matilda said. She tried to hug her friend, but it was too awkward with Hermione lying down like that. “I heard lots of crazy rumours, but I didn't know what was true or not…”

Hermione sighed, “I got hurt the worst out of the six of us, but Madam Pomfrey says that I’ll be healed by the end of term. Ron’s still pretty out of it because he was attacked by those brains.”

“Brains?” Matilda said. “That’s what Ginny said, but what—?”

“I have no idea. I just know they looked like brains, except they were swimming in a tank and had tentacles. Anyway, Madam Pomfrey already fixed up the rest of us.”

“Has Harry come by yet?”

“You just missed him. He left a few minutes ago. But if you see him don’t push him. He’s grieving, Matilda. His godfather died last night, and he’s already lost so much, he’s taking it really hard.”

Matilda’s eyes widened. “Susan Bones said nobody died,” she said.

Hermione considered this. “Maybe people don’t know yet. Neville said there wasn’t a body, but he was very sure about it.”

“Hermione, what _happened?_ ” she demanded.

Hermione smirked weakly as she said, “I should probably start at the beginning, right?”

“You and Harry left the office with Umbridge…” She looked over at where the woman was still lying motionless. “Was there really a weapon in the Forest?”

“No, I made that up. We just needed some way to get rid of her. We led her into the Forest and we got the centaur herd to take her away. They hate humans, you know.”

“Wait, the rumour about the centaurs was _true?_ ” Matilda asked. “I thought that was just one of Hogwarts’ wild exaggerations.”

“No, it really happened. And I guess I need to learn more about centaur culture; they nearly carried _us_ off, too.”

Matilda took a closer look at Umbridge. She remembered the reputation centaurs had in the original mythology. She didn’t _think_ they would be like that in the real world, but… “What did they do to her?” she whispered.

“Physically, nothing, according to Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said. “Just scared her out of her wits. Serves her right for calling them filthy animals.” She said this last bit loudly enough for Umbridge to hear, which finally got a reaction out of the woman, though it was only to sit up and look around frantically for a moment before lying back down.

Hermione continued to explain about their taking the creatures called Thestrals to the Ministry of Magic in London, and trying to find Harry's godfather, whom they believed to be held captive there. It turned out to be a ruse to lure Harry there. (She seemed reluctant to explain why). They got captured, but several people who were allies of some sort with Dumbledore showed up, including Harry’s godfather, who eventually got killed.

Hermione didn’t give Matilda many details of what Harry had told her about the end of the battle, but there was a confrontation involving him, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Dumbledore and Voldemort themselves in the Atrium of the Ministry. Voldemort had quickly fled the scene as the noise they’d made attracted unwanted visitors, but too late—Voldemort's return was undeniable now.

“Oh, my gosh,” Matilda covered her mouth with her hand. “I mean, I believed Harry since last year, but now all of this. What did Voldemort want to lure Harry to the Ministry for, anyway? If he wanted to kill Harry, there had to have been better locations to attempt it.”

Hermione sighed as she said,”"It’s a secret. Harry’s only told Ron and me, and even then, I’m not sure if it was _everything_. But Voldemort specifically wanted him at the Ministry to do something else. Some of it might come out in the _Prophet_ later, but that’s all I can tell you, sorry.”

Matilda nodded: “Oh, right. I understand…Is there anything I can do to help, then?”

She smiled. “Ron said you asked that last night,” she said, “but no, it would have been bad if you had been there with us last night, and I have a feeling it’s only going to get harder from here on out.”

“I wish I could have done more,” she offered.

“If you want to help, the best thing you can do right now is to be supportive of Harry,” Hermione said. “He told me you wrote him last summer and stuff. You seem like a reliable person, and he needs more of that in his life. So many people have let him down—Honestly, I think almost everyone in his life let him down in some way this year…I know I feel like I did.” Now Hermione's gaze was downcast, ashamed.

“It sounds like you did everything you could,” Matilda said, comfortingly.

“I don’t know. Since I’ve been in here, I’ve thought of half a dozen things I could have done to get help faster. The trouble is, I don’t know if any of them would have been a sure thing, and even if we’d been _faster_ , I don’t know if it would have changed anything.”

“And I could have tried to get you help when I left the office,” Matilda said glumly.

“No, I didn’t mean help from inside Hogwarts,” Hermione said. “There’s a chance it could’ve made it worse, in fact. The reason we were in that situation in the first place was because Umbridge had managed to take away every single person we could trust to help us.”

“Oh! I didn’t know it was that bad,” she said. “It must’ve been awful for Harry. I can’t imagine what Crunchem Hall would have been like if the Trunchbull had managed to get Jenny out of there…I really am sorry I couldn’t do more. I know it’s not my business, but I feel like I could have done something if I’d been there.” That nagging feeling that her wandless magic could have been of more use kept eating at her.

Hermione shook her head. “You don’t want to get mixed up with this, Matilda. I’ve seen you in the DA. You’re brilliant for your age, but you’re not ready for this. Hell, _we_ weren’t ready. Not even close. And I pray the war doesn’t go on so long that you need to _become_ ready.”

Matilda knew that Hermione was right, of course. Even if that was the third time she’d heard that in the past twenty-four hours, it was true. She wasn't even a teenager yet! Matilda held onto Hermione's hope, but somewhere deep down, she knew that the day was coming closer and closer when she would be asked to step up, and she knew she would need to be prepared for it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: JK Rowling and Roald Dahl are quirky creatures, full of quirks and secrets.
> 
> Part of this chapter has been quoted from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
> 
> We wanted to address some of the comments on the previous chapter complaining that this story is a canon rehash. And that’s an understandable complaint. I (White Squirrel) have been known to complain when promising stories turn into canon rehashes. The difference here is that this is a novella. It was only ever meant to be 7-9 chapters, and as such, it’s more about Matilda’s time at Hogwarts than it is about making major changes to the plot, especially since she’s three years younger than the main characters and can only affect so much.

The summer before third year, Matilda finally accepted a subscription to the Daily Prophet. It was this that gave her all the information about the aura of fear and confusion that was being sown by the Death Eaters. Aside from the few who had been captured at the Ministry, or previously imprisoned, no one knew for sure who was a Death Eater, who was under the Imperius Curse, or who was just trying to get by in their daily lives.

A couple of weeks into summer, she decided to send a letter to Harry. The state he’d been in when they’d left Hogwarts in June had her worried, and so she wanted to see how he was doing. If anything, it would give her a distraction from the lack of letters from Laura. Her friend had been worryingly out of contact since school let out. As a matter of fact, most of her friends had been unusually silent this year. From some, like Susan, it was expected. After all, the Daily Prophet had done a big article on her aunt, Amelia Bones’s, death several weeks ago. But it seemed like everyone was being more restrained in their post.

_Harry,_

_I just decided to write and check on you. How are you doing? I know you’ve probably got a million things on your mind after your Ministry adventure last year. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I know we’re not the closest of friends, but the offer is absolutely there._

_Jenny is thinking about sending me to Beauxbatons next term, and I think that it might not be a terrible idea. The only thing stopping me from totally committing is all of my friends at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore. I’ve been told he will keep Hogwarts safe, so I think it may be a good idea to stay. I have about a week to decide though._

_Write back soon and let me know how you are,_

_Matilda_

She looked up from her letter as Jenny walked into her bedroom. “Matilda, have you made a decision on Beauxbatons?” she asked. “Their admissions ends next week, you know.”

Matilda nodded. “I know. I just can’t decide.” It would be a big decision to leave Hogwarts, and she would not make it lightly.

“I don’t like the way things are shaping up right now,” Jenny worried. “Those newspapers you’ve shown me… that Voldemort wizard is on a warpath, and as someone not from that world, you’d be one of his targets.”

“It’s not exactly anything we didn’t already know, Jenny,” Matilda said. “We already knew Voldemort was back. Things might be more dangerous now that he’s out in the open, but everyone says Hogwarts is the safest place in Britain.”

Jenny crossed her arms protectively over her chest. “Matilda, I’m worried for you. If you get into a dangerous situation… I still think that Beauxbatons would be safer for you.”

Matilda sighed. Time to make the decision, whether she wanted to or not. “You may be right, but I don’t think I can just leave my friends in this. If they end up needing me—I don’t mean fighting Death Eaters or anything—I want to be there for them.

Jenny deflated. “All right then, I suppose I can understand that. I just want you to be safe.”

Matilda nodded. “I’m going to try and keep out of trouble this year. I don’t think anything as crazy as Umbridge will happen again, so it should be quieter, at least inside the school.”

* * *

A day or two later, Matilda got a reply from Harry.

_Matilda,_

_I’m still pretty shaken up, but I’m not as angry as I was. Sometimes I’ll just catch myself wanting to write Sirius a letter, and then I’ll realise I can’t. It hits me over again then. Thanks for the offer, I’ll take you up on it if I need to._

_Otherwise, I’m doing pretty well. I’m at the Weasleys’ now, and I’m supposed to stay there for the rest of the summer. I’d rather never go back, but Dumbledore says I need to one more time next summer. He was the one who brought me to the Weasleys a few days ago, and we went to try to convince this retired teacher to come back next year. He didn’t fully explain why, but it sounded important._

_I think you should stay here at Hogwarts. As you say, Dumbledore is the best protection anyone can offer. Voldemort wouldn’t dare attack the school as long as Dumbledore’s there. If the time comes, though, I do think it’s best for you to leave. Save yourself if things get crazy. You don’t want to get involved in this mess, especially when you’re not fully trained. Trust me, I speak from experience._

_It’s good to hear from you. Write soon,_

_Harry._

Matilda was glad to hear Harry was doing better, but most especially that he was somewhere he had a support structure. She’d been in a position where she’d had to deal with things on her own before, and it was not a good place to be.

* * *

Jenny and Matilda observed the many abandoned shops of Diagon Alley as they went to get some new robes and potions supplies.

“I never expected this,” Matilda marvelled, the gloomy atmosphere surrounding them seeming to seep into her bones. “All of these people…”

Jenny pursed her lips as she said, “This is what Voldemort can do?” She seemed disbelieving that any one person could cause such despair. Matilda merely nodded. “I suppose it must have been like this during World War II, but to see it today…”

They quickly got their packages, and were walking down the high street to Flourish and Blotts when Matilda caught sight of a brightly decorated shop at the end.

“Is that—?” Matilda couldn’t believe it, and started racing towards the shop. The sign eventually came into view. _Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. “_ It’s Fred and George’s shop! Come on!”

Jenny quickly caught up as Matilda entered the shop. Matilda looked around in wonder at all of the amazing candies and trick items.

“What is a Canary Creme?” Jenny asked, motioning to one of the items on a shelf.

Matilda examined it. “It looks like it temporarily turns you into a canary.”

“Indeed it does,” a voice from behind them said. They both turned around to see Fred and George grinning at them.

“Boys,” Matilda said, smirking at them.

“Honey,” they both said in sequence, mimicking her tone. “And this woman is?”

Matilda turned to Jenny. “These guys are Fred and George. Twins, this is my mother, Jenny.”

“Matilda has told me about you,” Jenny smiled, shaking the twins hands.

“Likewise,” George said. “So, Honey, what do you think of the place?”

Matilda spread her arms around. “It’s amazing! How did you manage this in just a few months?”

Fred seemed to lose a bit of his good mood at this. “Sign of the times. Things are so tense now that people are coming here to get something to help lighten things up.”

Matilda figured that made sense. “People need a laugh. I’m glad you’ve been doing so well. What do you recommend?”

George led them over to a stand that held some pink flasks. Matilda uncorked one and smelled it. “Love potions,” he said. She immediately stilled and carefully lowered the flask from her nose. “Don’t worry, we don’t deal in the really strong stuff. What do you smell?”

Matilda gave it another sniff. “Pancakes, a new book, and a fresh running stream.”

Fred grinned. “Nice picks. They smell different to everyone. I smell mum’s mince pies, broom polish, and chocolate.”

“Why does that sound exactly like you?” Matilda laughed lightly. It felt nice to joke around with the twins again. “This place is really amazing, guys. I’m glad you’ve been able to make something of your pranks.”

“I have to agree,” Jenny echoed. “The things I see here… most people I know could only dream of them.”

George chuckled. “High praise, indeed. Now listen, Honey, we can’t make a habit of giving our products away for free, but since you’re a fellow prankster like us, you can go ahead and pick one thing.”

Matilda tried to wave the offer off, but the twins wouldn’t hear a word. Eventually, Matilda decided on an anti-gravity hat, which seemed like a lot of fun.

“Goodbye, guys,” Matilda called as she and Jenny left the shop.

As they returned to the gloom of the main Alley, Jenny said, “The contrast is extraordinary, isn’t it?”

Matilda agreed. The twins definitely deserved it, though.

* * *

A few days later, Matilda was on the Hogwarts Express, searching the compartments for any of her friends. Finally, she found Laura in a compartment by herself.

“Laura, thank goodness!” Matilda said, putting her bags down and embracing her. “I hadn’t heard from you in so long, and I was worried!”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Laura replied, accepting the hug. “My family and I were travelling quite a lot this summer, and I never got a chance to write to anyone.”

Matilda released Laura and started to put her bags up in the storage rack. “That’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Laura sat back down and faced Matilda. “I’m surprised you actually came this year, Matilda,” she said. “I thought you might stay in the Muggle world.”

Matilda shook her head. “I thought about it, but I couldn’t leave you guys. I did almost go to Beauxbatons, but it’s no Hogwarts.”

“That’s true,” another voice said. The girls looked to see Eleanor entering the carriage. “I know I would never have transferred.”

“Hi, Eleanor!” Matilda grinned. “Almost late, eh?”

“Nah,” Eleanor shrugged. “I got caught up by the new teacher, he wanted me to give you this.” She held out a scroll of parchment tied with a violet ribbon. Matilda took it with an interested look.

_Matilda,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in Compartment C._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor H. E. F. Slughorn_

That was odd, she thought. She’d never been invited to have lunch with a teacher on the train. In fact, she’d never even _seen_ a teacher on the train before. Presumably, he was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, but the invitation looked just a little fishy.

“That’s strange,” she said. “Was he giving out other invitations, Eleanor?”

“A few,” Eleanor replied, holding up two more scrolls. “In fact, I have to go for a minute. I’m supposed to deliver these to Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom.”

Oh, Harry would be there. At least she’d see a familiar face, then. “Alright. Good luck,” Matilda said. She chatted with her friends for a while before she started off for Compartment C. Arriving, she found a group of mostly older students being hosted by a rather elderly man.

That man, who could only be Professor Slughorn, was so fat that he seemed to take up half the compartment, and he was dressed in finery that could have come straight from a Victorian novel. In the compartment with him were Harry and Neville, along with Ginny Weasley and three older boys.

“Hello, guys,” Matilda greeted, quickly taking the seat that Slughorn offered her.

It was a strange situation at first, but it was plain to see pretty quickly that this was an elite group, for the most part. Marcus Belby’s uncle had invented the Wolfsbane Potion. Cormac McLaggen seemed to know everyone at the Ministry of Magic. Blaise Zabini’s mother was apparently widowed seven times over and had come out fabulously wealthy for it. (Matilda subconsciously scooted away from him.) Ginny was the odd one out. Apparently, Professor Slughorn was impressed with her Bat-Bogey Hex.

After introducing some of the others and going over their (or their family’s) achievements, he finally arrived at Matilda.

“And Matilda Honey. The stories I’ve heard about you—wandless magic at your age—and a muggle-born. Funny, isn’t it, how such talent comes from those who are new to our world. How did you do it?”

Matilda shrugged, deciding not to ask who had told him about her. That “muggle-born” remark rubbed her the wrong way. “It just sort of came naturally to me, Professor,” she said. “I didn’t even know I was doing magic, but I taught myself to control it pretty quickly.”

“Remarkable! Most remarkable,” Slughorn said. “When Dumbledore mentioned you, I was unsure it would be possible in someone so young. Would you—”

Matilda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. With friends, she didn’t mind it, but she felt a little more cautious about showing off now than she had two years ago. “This compartment is a bit small, I don’t want to do something I didn’t intend and hurt someone,” she said, despite the fact that she could have managed it easily.

To his credit, Slughorn accepted this with little argument, and went on to Harry. He seemed quite uncomfortable while being interviewed by Slughorn, which made sense because all Slughorn seemed to want to talk about was Harry’s dead parents and godfather. He completely ignored the fact that both Neville and Ginny had also been in the Ministry last June.

Eventually the lunch ended, and Matilda stopped to talk with Harry outside the compartment. “That can’t have been pleasant, are you okay?” she asked him.

Harry shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I’m alright with it, but it’s happened so much I guess I should just get used to it, eh?”

Matilda shook her head. “No, you shouldn’t ever have to be okay with people invading your comfort zone about your parents. That’s not the only thing that defines you.”

Harry smiled a bit. “Thanks, Honey. That’s nice of you to say.”

“Nice is a bit Hufflepuff’s forte, isn’t it?” Matilda smirked. “Unlike Slughorn. Do you know anything about him?”

To her surprise, Harry nodded. “Dumbledore took me along to convince Slughorn to come back and teach,” Harry said. “Remember I told you? Apparently, likes to ‘collect’ people he thinks are going to be famous or powerful or something. He was head of Slytherin when he was here before.”

“He’s done this sort of thing before?” Matilda asked.

“Yeah,” Harry responded. “My mum was part of it, back when he used to teach. He likes to claim that he led them to their fame.”

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the whole affair clicked into place. Professor Slughorn was trying to run some kind of elite gentlemen's (and gentlewomen’s) club, and he deemed Matilda’s exploits sufficiently impressive to offer her a place. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She probably would have wound up in some group like that if she’d gone to Roedean, but Jenny had always made sure she stayed down to earth at Crunchem Hall. And Slughorn himself seemed provincial at best, with the way he talked about muggle-borns. She would reserve judgement until she actually had him for a class, though.

It later emerged at the Welcome Feast that Professor Slughorn was actually the retired Potions Master of the school who was returning to take over his old post. Professor Snape, meanwhile, would be moving over to Defence Against the Dark Arts. She wondered how he’d be in that class. He’d certainly be better than Umbridge, but a rock would be a better teacher than Dolores Umbridge.

* * *

Matilda walked into the Great Hall a couple of weeks after the start of term. Things were off to a good start this year in her opinion. Professor Snape wasn’t great at teaching Defence, but they were learning _something_ so that was a plus, and Professor Slughorn was a pretty good Potions teacher. Her electives were going fairly well too—she'd picked Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy. She and Laura had just come from Ancient Runes, which Matilda found fascinating.

"I didn't fully understand everything about that _ehwaz_ rune," Laura was saying. They both went silent as they noticed the tense atmospheres at both the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables.

"What's going on?" Matilda asked Susan as she sat down beside the older girl. Susan turned her drawn expression to Matilda.

"It's Hannah," she explained. "She was pulled out of Herbology this morning, her mum's been killed!"

Matilda's eyes widened. "Killed? How?" Neither of them needed to answer that question, it was obvious. Mrs. Abbott had been a casualty of the Death Eaters.

Laura spoke next. "Where is she now?"

Susan shrugged. "McGonagall called her out, and as soon as class ended, I went to Professor Sprout to see if she knew anything. She told us that she would probably be with McGonagall for a while. I was planning to try and find her after Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Matilda said, "We'll go with you. I feel awful for her." She tried to think about how she could tactfully ask her next question. “Do you...do you know anything about her family situation, Susan? I mean, were they involved in…” She waved her hand vaguely. She supposed the Ministry, now that they were organising against Voldemort.

Susan understood her meaning. “Not exactly. Her mum—” She sniffed. “Her mum was muggle-born. Her dad’s from an old pureblood family. Like, a step below the Malfoys-elite. For him, marrying a muggle-born was political all by itself.”

Matilda nodded. It made sense. For the most part, the victims of the Death Eaters wouldn’t be truly random. That was the one consolation for people like her and the other younger muggle-borns who weren’t as involved. Given the timing, this might even be someone who thought they had a score to settle from the last war, though for Hannah, she was sure, it didn’t really matter.

And so, later that afternoon, Matilda, Laura, and Susan made their way back to the Hufflepuff dormitories, where they guessed Hannah might be after such a devastating blow. Sure enough, they arrived in the sixth year girls dorm to find Hannah sitting on her bed, seeming more shocked than anything.

Susan was the one to sit next to her and put an arm around her. "Han, I know things aren't okay, but do you want to talk?"

Hannah let a few tears fall as she said, "I haven't been able to learn everything yet. Dad wants me to go home, at least for a while. I don't know if I'll be back."

Matilda took the spot on the other side of Hannah, placing a hand on her knee comfortingly. "When are you going home?"

"In a couple hours, as soon as Dad gets a Portkey to Hogsmeade and can get up to the castle."

"Can we help you pack?" Laura asked. It was the only real thing they could do for their friend at the moment.

Hannah nodded. "That would be nice, thank you guys."

Over the next couple of hours, the four of them managed to get all of Hannah’s things packed up. It seemed to take Hannah's mind off of the terrible situation, which was a good thing. Eventually, Professor Sprout came up to the dormitory to inform them that Mr. Abbott had arrived and was waiting in the Entrance Hall.

Together, the four of them got all of Hannah's things down to where her father was waiting. Susan and Laura both quickly said goodbye to Hannah and left, seeming to feel awkward with Mr. Abbott there. Matilda remained for a moment, facing Hannah.

"I'm just really sorry," Matilda finally said. "I can't say I know what you're going through, but I do know the effect losing a parent can have on someone—my mum lost both of her parents really young." Sensing that she wasn't exactly saying the most helpful thing, she finally gave Hannah a tight hug. "Deal with it how you need to okay? And please keep in touch?"

Hannah managed a small smile. "I will, I promise. Keep yourself safe, right?"

Matilda nodded, and Hannah joined her father as they left Hogwarts.

* * *

Matilda hadn’t had a chance to see Hogsmeade before, being too young for the trips. The town was very much like Diagon Alley in some ways, but quieter, and especially dreary given the day’s bad weather. It had a much more medieval look about it with high-peaked roofs and comically-tall chimneys. Some of the stores were different, of course, and the Three Broomsticks was said to be the best pub in magical Britain.

It was at the magical pub that Matilda had arranged to meet Beatrice. She hadn't seen her since she'd graduated after Voldemort’s return. They had exchanged letters, of course, and they'd even spoken on the telephone over the summer, but it just wasn't the same.

Arriving, Matilda pushed open the door and examined everyone there already, taking the moment to get warm from the cold and sleet outdoors. Most of the pub goers were normal villagers (it was too early for most of the Hogwarts students to want to come in). Scanning everyone, she found the person she was looking for.

"Beatrice!" she exclaimed, hurrying over and embracing the older girl. Beatrice had changed quite a lot, she realised. She had always been quite resilient, able to shake most things off, but Cedric’s death and the brewing war had got to her. Her face, while still young and bearing the mischievous smirk Matilda knew, also held a certain sadness. 

"Matilda, I'm so happy you're here," she responded. "I'm always so worried about you being a muggle-born kid, and all…" 

Matilda picked up the pause expertly, grinning as she said, "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Beatrice chuckled. "Knowing you, that's not an empty threat!" After a beat, she said, "Where do you want to go? Anywhere in particular?"

"I'll take the Beatrice tour, please," Matilda said. "Show me your favourite places here." The girls ordered two butterbeers to go and left the now slowly filling pub.

The next hours were spent touring the town. There were so many things to see! They first went to Honeydukes, filled with hundreds of types of magical sweets and treats. Some she had seen on the Hogwarts Express, as part of the trolley witch's array of items, and some were completely foreign. For instance, she couldn't imagine ever liking a Blood Pop.

They then headed to see The Shrieking Shack.

"Haunted, that place is," Beatrice told Matilda. "Ever since it was built, practically."

Matilda eyed the place skeptically. "But we see ghosts all the time in school. Why is everyone afraid of it if it's just a ghost, unless it's a really vicious one?"

Beatrice shrugged as she said, "Good question, never thought of that. But the place always moans and shakes around the full moon. At least, it used to."

There was an obvious explanation for that, although she wasn’t sure _why_ a werewolf would frequent a place like that.

Unfortunately, the place Matilda thought she would like most, Zonko’s Joke Shop, was boarded up just like so many of the stores in Diagon Alley.

“It’s too bad,” Beatrice said. “It used to be a great stop back in the day, although the Weasleys’ new place in Diagon Alley is better…to be honest, I’m surprised old Bilton Bilmes managed to make it this long without getting killed by his own products.”

“I hope he can reopen it,” Matilda said. “It should be a fun shop to have near the school.”

Beatrice said, “Maybe you’ll get the chance. There are usually three or four trips in the year, and he could still come back if things change.”

They were quiet for a few minutes as they headed back to the Three Broomsticks to warm up (it was getting extremely chilly now). The sleet from earlier in the day was now properly snow, and it was starting to blanket the paths.

“It’s freezing today,” Matilda said. “Did you ever have October snow when you were here?”

“No—or at least not this much,” Beatrice said. “It was always pretty predictable. People are saying the dementors being loose from Azkaban is affecting the weather.”

That only made Matilda shiver more. “What do you say we start to head back?” she asked as they sat at an empty table. “Day’s nearly over, and you can walk with me to the Common Room before you head home. I think they’ll let you in as long as you aren’t carrying any dark artifacts.”

“That sounds like a plan,”’ Beatrice agreed. “Professor Sprout will, I’m sure. Besides, Maya’s brother sneaked in loads of times.” The two of them waited in the warm pub for a few minutes, and finally got up their courage and headed back into the cold.

The path was getting quite slippery, and Beatrice and Matilda had to help each other stay upright. They almost didn’t notice as a figure shot up into the air quite a ways up the path.

“What’s going on?” Matilda questioned. “Who is that?”

Beatrice tensed as she said, “I don’t know, come on!”

They hurried to the scene, to find Hagrid, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and an unfamiliar Ravenclaw girl surrounding another girl lying unconscious in the snow. Harry was very carefully picking up what looked like some kind of elaborate jewelry from the ground with his scarf. As Matilda got a look at her face, she realised she recognised the girl on the ground.

“It’s Katie Bell,” she whispered. “She plays Quidditch for Gryffindor.”

Beatrice nodded. “I recognise her.” To Hermione, she said, “What the hell happened to her?”

“It was a cursed necklace,” Harry answered for her. “I don’t know what it did, but it looked back. It came from Borgin and Burkes. I think it was Malfoy.”

“Harry, you can’t know that,” Hermione insisted.

“Yeh can worry ‘bout that later,” Hagrid said, hefting Katie into his arms. “I’ll take her teh the Hospital Wing. Beatrice, Matilda, I think yeh can go. The rest o’ yeh, better come along. Dumbledore migh’ have questions for yeh.”

Matilda and Beatrice watched them go. Matilda’s heart was still racing. “I’ve never seen anything like that,” she whispered. “What kind of curse was it?”

“Dunno,” Beatrice said. “My sister and I saw loads of curses when we were here, but none of them sounded like that.”

“Do you think Malfoy was really behind it?”

She shrugged. “Maybe? I always thought he was just a little snot, myself. Never paid much attention.”

* * *

Hermione and Matilda left the Hospital Wing, after finding out that Katie would soon be moved to St. Mungo’s.

“I hope she’s going to be okay,” Hermione fretted. “She’s so badly hurt, I’m worried for her.”

Matilda nodded. “She doesn’t deserve this, Hermione. But St. Mungo’s has the best healers, they’ll take care of her.”

They headed through the castle, passing everyone going about their regular business. They heard whispers about Katie as they did, but no one seemed to know exactly what happened.

“Harry thinks it was Malfoy,” Hermione eventually said. “He’s been suspicious of him all year, thinks he’s up to something.”

“I heard,” Matilda said. “But why? I mean, sure, he’s a jerk and a bully, but I don’t think he would be willing to harm an innocent girl. It seems like a step up for him.”

“I agree,” she said. “Not only is it unlike him, it physically couldn’t be. McGonagall said he was in detention with her today. He didn’t go to Hogsmeade.”

They were quiet for a bit, as they both considered the situation. They were interrupted, however, when they ran into a group of Slytherins as they passed through the Entrance Hall. Matilda recognized these two. Graham Pritchard and Malcolm Baddock were the typical Slytherin bullies, similar to Draco. She’d dealt with them several times, and previously had only defused the situation and left.

“Oh look!” Pritchard called as he spotted them. “It’s the Mudblood geeks. No wonder they’re friends!”

“Don’t start, Pritchard,” Matilda glared at him. “Not in the mood right now.”

Baddock’s eyes widened in mock sympathy. “Oh, the Mudblood isn’t in the mood. How rude of us.”

“Baddock, I’m serious,” she said. “Don’t test me today.”

Hermione eyed her nervously. “Matilda…”

Graham raised his eyebrows as he said, “How are you going to make us, Honey?”

Matilda couldn’t tell if they were bluffing or not. She’d pranked them on any number of occasions. “I can handle you two, believe you me. I don’t want to hear you bothering any muggle-borns again, do you hear me? You know what I can do.”

The boys didn’t seem to be taking her seriously. Her eyes alighted on a table about six feet away, covered in several candelabras and other small knickknacks. She eyed them and made them levitate, approaching the group at a steady pace, holding the projectiles over the boys’ heads. “I’m serious. Now go on.”

Their eyes wide in real nerves, the two bullies dashed off into the Great Hall.

“Matilda, that was…” Hermione seemed to struggle for words. “Did you need to terrify them?”

Matilda shrugged. “I’m tired of them bullying everyone. I want to stop them, so I needed to. And if I catch them bullying others again, I’ll remind them what I can do.”

* * *

Matilda was walking to the Common Room after class a few weeks later when she ran into Professor Dumbledore—almost literally.

"I'm sorry, sir!" she exclaimed, nearly dropping all of her things in the effort to avoid a collision. "Wasn't looking where I was going."

Dumbledore smiled at her. "No worries, my dear. Actually, it is fortunate I came upon you now. I have something for you to deliver." He pulled a scroll out of his robes and handed it to her. “Please take this to Harry Potter at your earliest convenience.”

It was the first time she'd actually seem how bad his hand was. It looked almost mummified. She’d heard the rumours all year, of course, but they didn’t compare.

"I'm sorry," she gulped, gently taking the scroll from him. "Does that hurt much?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I am in surprisingly little pain most of the time. Professor Snape has been helping me manage."

Matilda took a breath before she asked, "If you don't mind my asking, what happened?"

Dumbledore answered, "An amazing exciting tale, but one not suited for young children, I should think. Perhaps someday, you and many others will know."

Matilda wanted to press—the answer seemed important, somehow—but she didn't think Dumbledore would give up any information before he was ready to.

"All right," she said. "Goodbye, sir."

Matilda quickly ran her things to the Common Room before searching the common areas for Harry. Eventually, she found him in the Entrance Hall, about to head in for lunch. 

“Harry!” she called to him.

“Matilda,” he said, raising an eyebrow and giving a small grin. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh, nothing,” she laughed slightly. “I just was looking for you, Dumbledore asked me to give you this.”

She handed him the letter, which he read quickly. “He wants to have another lesson. Thanks, Matilda.”

Harry rushed off, leaving Matilda completely confused. She had no idea what was going on. Probably something to do with fighting Voldemort, she figured, so she left it at that.

* * *

The Christmas holidays approached as the weather chilled further, and with it came the announcement of a Christmas party for members of the Slug Club. The meetings thus far had mostly been full of Slughorn talking about people Matilda had never even heard of, so this was a chance for some excitement. Even more exciting was the fact that they could bring a guest.

“Do you want to come with me?” she asked Eleanor a few days before the event. “It’ll be a laugh, at least, eh?”

Eleanor grinned as she said, “Definitely, count me in!” 

Matilda had considered asking Laura, as Eleanor had essentially abandoned her for most of last year. However, she’d been making an effort to improve their friendship, and figured this could be a way to do just that, and have a good time.

The party was the day before the Christmas holidays, so Matilda spent most of the morning packing. Around five o’clock, she and Eleanor decided to start getting ready to go. Matilda donned a dark blue dress that she'd worn to Christmas events before. 

Eleanor and Matilda headed up to Slughorn’s office. Almost as soon as they reached the spiral staircase, they heard people talking quite animated.

"This is quite a to-do," Eleanor remarked as they finally reached the party.

"No kidding," Matilda agreed. "Slughorn said that he was inviting some influential people, supposedly to help us make connections or something."

They braced themselves before heading straight into the groupings of people.

It was quite an awkward experience for the girls, as they were very obviously the youngest in attendance. There were very few of the important people that she recognised, so she searched the people until she found Ginny. She was alongside her date, a boy that Matilda recognised as a member of the DA, though she couldn't remember his name.

"Hi, Ginny," Matilda grinned. "Good to see someone else familiar here!"

"Seconded," she replied. "Who's your friend?" She gestured to her date. "This is my boyfriend, Dean."

Dean, that was it! Matilda smiled at him as she said, "My friend, Eleanor. Eleanor, you know Ginny, right?"

Eleanor nodded, appearing slightly starstruck. "Hi."

Over the next hour or so, Matilda and Eleanor spoke to several of the guests. It was an impressive group, even if they had to be told the significance of each of the guests. They got to meet a real vampire for the time (and quickly made themselves scarce when he licked his lips upon meeting them), one of the most famous Quidditch stars in the country, and a couple of punk rocker types whose music she’d heard Beatrice listening to in her first year.

They found Harry, who had invited Luna to the party. Luna seemed to be under the impression that the Minister of Magic was a vampire. Matilda didn't think that sounded right, but you never knew.

Suddenly, there was a commotion as someone was pushed through the crowd towards where Slughorn was talking with a group of people. It was Filch, and he was dragging Draco Malfoy by the ear.

"I caught this boy trying to sneak into the party!" Filch explained. "He claims to have been invited."

Draco scowled at the caretaker. "All right, I was gate crashing!"

Matilda didn't know what this was about. If Malfoy wanted to come to the party, he could have been invited by Zabini. Matilda's guess was that he was caught trying to do something else, and used the party as an excuse.

To their surprise, Slughorn ended up allowing Draco to stay at the party. Matilda watched Draco disappear into the crowd. Looking over to Harry and Luna, she found that Harry had also disappeared. "Where'd he go?" She asked Luna.

Luna appeared unconcerned as she said, "He said he was going to be back in a moment. I saw him bring out the Marauder’s Map, though."

Matilda could make an educated guess about what he was doing. "He followed Draco."

“Yes, that could be it.”

Harry’s efforts didn’t seem to be very conclusive, but he was more suspicious than ever afterwards.

* * *

The next several months passed with minor upsets here and there. Everyone was taken aback by the poisoning of Ron Weasley on his birthday. Matilda had gone with Hermione up to the hospital wing.

"So what exactly happened?" Matilda asked on the way.

Hermione struggled for words. "He was under a love potion. It was sent to Harry, but Ron ate them unknowingly. Harry took him to Slughorn, and he made an antidote. Ron was left feeling awful, and since it was Ron's birthday, Slughorn brought out some mead. It turned out to be poisoned. They're still investigating, but they think it was an attempt on Dumbledore’s life, because it was originally intended for him. Ron only survived because Harry found a bezoar."

"And Slughorn didn't notice until Ron was writhing on the floor?" Matilda questioned. "He didn't think anything was off about the mead before he poured?"

Hermione shrugged. "I guess not. Some poisons are undetectable if you’re not looking really close."

Hermione was having a hard enough time as it was with some kind of love triangle or square or something involving her and Ron. Matilda didn’t have any idea what to do there except to be a shoulder to cry on. She was old enough to start noticing boys herself now, but she really hoped she could avoid that level of drama.

* * *

Ron’s poisoning seemed to set the tone for the rest of the year, at least to hear Hermione tell it. Ron recovered, but in his absence, Harry had to recruit Cormac McLaggen to the Quidditch team. She'd gotten to know the older boy through the Slug Club, and he was exceedingly arrogant. (And a pig, according to Hermione.) During the match, he took one of the new Gryffindor Beaters bats and smacked a Bludger right into Harry's head, knocking him out. 

Once both boys were released, things seemed to be relatively quiet for a while, but her older friends’ wild luck continued. Harry couldn't play in the final match, due to Snape giving Harry detention, though Matilda didn't know why. (There was a rumour about him killing Malfoy, but it seemed too outrageous to believe. Plus, Malfoy was still distinctly alive.)

Gryffindor managed to win the Quidditch Cup anyway with Ginny standing in as Seeker, and the next day, it was all over the school that Harry and Ginny were dating. Matilda thought they were quite well matched, and felt that Harry deserved some happiness in his life.

Matilda dealt with more attacks from Pritchard and Baddock. They seemed to be taking her previous threat seriously, but every once in a while she caught them at it and gave them a reminder.

Other than that, the madness seemed to have calmed down. Despite the war outside the castle walls, things had returned to close to normal inside. As exams approached, Matilda thought that the end of third year would pass quietly.

She was wrong.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Aurors are working from within to bring down the Ministry of Magic with a combination of JK Rowling and Roald Dahl.
> 
> Double chapter! If you haven’t read Chapter 7 yet, you’ve gone too far. There’s one chapter to go, which is half-done, so expect that soon.

One night near the end of term, Matilda was working on some study problems that Slughorn had set the third-years. It was mostly simple stuff, but she was having trouble with the Wiggenweld Potion.

Just finishing the sentence she was writing, she winced as she felt a burning sensation on her leg. Something in her robe was burning her! She dug in the pocket to find the Dumbledore’s Army galleon that she had nearly forgotten, the letters changing from their previous configuration of the last year, to a new message

HARRY NEEDS US

7TH FLOOR

COME QUICKLY

Matilda bolted from the Common Room. She didn’t know what was happening, but it sounded urgent, especially given that the DA hadn’t been called for anything since they were busted by Umbridge over a year ago, not even the night they went to the Ministry. Plus it was already past curfew, so they wouldn’t put out a call unless it was important.

Even after three years climbing up and down the staircases at Hogwarts, climbing the eight floors to the Room of Requirement was a long slog, so she used a bit of wandless magic to help her. Keeping her hand on the railing, she pushed off with her feet, unsteadily at first, but then with growing confidence.

What she would once have thought of as an unusual use of her “power” Matilda now understood as enchanting her shoes to step with the correct rhythm and force to propel her up the stairs until she was taking them a fleet-footed three at a time. Once again, she was surprised that other wizards never did that...or maybe some of them did, and she just never knew it. The teachers seemed to be able to respond to emergencies on a different floor pretty quickly.

Either way, she made it to the seventh floor just in time, as Hermione was already discussing the situation.

“—so we need to set a watch on the—Matilda?” she said in surprise.

“I got the message,” she answered, panting for breath. It was then that she looked around and saw how small the group was. Besides Hermione, the only people there were Ron and Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood. Harry nor anyone else were nowhere to be seen. “Where is everyone?”

“This is it,” Hermione said. “It looks like you three are the only ones who kept your coins with you.”

“Well, should we find some more people? And where’s Harry?”

“Out with Dumbledore. I can’t tell you any more than that. And no, it would attract too much attention. To be honest, I’m not sure you should be involved in this, Matilda.”

“Why not?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

Hermione let out an annoyed sigh. “ _Personally_ , I think nothing is. But if Harry _is_ right, it could be dangerous.”

“What’s happening?”

Ron spoke up: “Harry thinks Malfoy’s a Death Eater.”

Matilda’s mouth snapped shut. That was...not surprising that Malfoy would _want_ to be a Death Eater, especially as his father was a confirmed one, but for a Death Eater to get into the school would be a major feat. “Could...he get inside Hogwarts without being noticed?” she asked.

Ron just shrugged, but Hermione said, “Maybe, but I don’t think he _would_ be. Malfoy’s only just now seventeen, and I don’t think Voldemort would take someone underage, but Harry thinks he’s up to something.”

“Like what?” Matilda asked.

“We don’t know. All we know for sure is that Malfoy has been spending a lot of time in the Room of Requirement.”

“He reckons Malfoy’s been trying to mend something,” Ron added, “and he’s finally got it sorted.”

“What’s he been trying to mend?” said Matilda.

“We...don’t know,” Hermione repeated, “but Harry thinks he’s going to use it to try something tonight.”

She furrowed her brow. “Something like what?”

“We really don’t know, Matilda—if there’s anything. We’ve been telling him all year that it doesn’t make sense, but he’s really worried, and he wants us to keep an eye on Malfoy and Snape tonight.”

“Snape?” she said in surprise. “What’s Snape got to do with it?”

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny looked at each other awkwardly.

“Er…”

“Well, you see…”

“We can’t tell you about that,” Hermione said. “Not all of it. Harry suspects him. He has...reasons that might have something to them, but Dumbledore trusts Snape, so…”

Matilda rubbed her head. This was rapidly feeling out of her league. “Should we tell some of the other teachers?” she asked.

Ginny shook her head firmly. “No, Honey. There’s already extra security—Aurors and stuff—but Harry wants someone watching who Snape doesn’t know about, so we can call for help if he’s ready for them.”

“So we’re just on the lookout for trouble? I can do that.”

Hermione sighed: “Fine. It doesn’t look like we’ll get anyone else, and I suppose with two groups of three, it’ll be easier to send a runner with a message without leaving anyone alone.”

“Right,” Ron decided. “Me, Ginny, and Neville will watch the Room of Requirement in case Malfoy shows up. Honey, you go down with Hermione and Luna to stake out Snape’s office. Don’t let him know you’re there. Just be ready if he tries anything. Let’s go.”

* * *

Hermione, Matilda, and Luna were watching outside Snape’s office for about half an hour before they started to wonder if this wasn’t the best plan.

“This is ridiculous,” Hermione whispered. “We don’t even know if something’s going to happen. And what are we supposed to do if Snape _does_ try something? Pretty much everyone who could help is already involved.”

Matilda shrugged. “We could try waking up the rest of the DA.”

“Maybe,” she said. “You three are the only ones who still paid attention, though. For a lot of them, I think it was still a study group up to the end.” She sighed and slumped against the wall. “I wish we knew what was happening upstairs. Who knows if Malfoy’s tried something after all?”

“Maybe we can find out?” Luna suggested.

“No, I left the Marauder’s Map with Ron so he could watch Malfoy. There’s no way to talk to anyone down here.”

“But what about Matilda?” she asked.

Matilda perked up. “That’s right. I could run up and check on them. I can be fast on the stairs.”

Hermione sat up. “Really? That would be great, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s no problem. I’ll be back soon.” Once again, she took off running, soon reaching the Grand Staircase and flying up the steps three at a time. She was panting again when she reached the top, even though she’d refined her technique. That climb took some actual magical _effort_. Come to think of it, she didn’t think she’d even used wandless magic with that much weight for that long before. She didn’t think she’d be able to do this all night, but she should be fine for now.

She found Ron, Ginny, and Neville again and flagged them down, explaining that they wanted to know what was happening. Unfortunately, the answer was nothing. Ron told her they hadn’t seen Malfoy on the Marauder’s Map, so they assumed he was still inside the Room of Requirement.

“What about Snape?” she asked.

He checked the Map. “Still in his office. You’re good there.”

“Alright. Thanks, Ron.”

She turned around and returned to the stairs. She started descending normally, since that was easier than climbing, but debated to herself whether it would be faster to slide down the banister or try to hopscotch down them. She only got to the sixth floor, though, when she rounded a corner and nearly ran into a woman who grabbed her and spun her around, pushing her back against the wall.

“ _There_ you are,” the woman said, sounding out of breath. “How are you so fast?”

“Excuse me?” Matilda said in confusion. Now that she got a good look, the woman was wearing Auror robes, though she looked young and had hot pink hair.

“I saw you running up the stairs a minute ago. How are you so fast at that? I got good at running away from teachers when I was here, but I was never _that_ fast.”

Matilda gave her a toothy grin. “Magic?” she said.

“Right…” The Auror drew out the word, eyeing her skeptically. “You know it’s after curfew, right, kid?”

Her smile vanished. “Yes, sorry...Are you part of the security for tonight?”

“Well, I’m not about to go back to class. The name’s Auror Tonks.”

“Matilda Honey.”

“Wotcher—ooh, hold on a sec.” Auror Tonks pointed her wand at Matilda and said, _“Revelio.”_ When nothing added, she said, “Okay, you’re probably legit. So, what are you doing out after curfew, Honey? Mind, I won’t tell the teachers if you’re not hurting anyone. It’s the least I can do for a fellow Hufflepuff, but I need to know.”

Her words twigged Matilda’s own suspicions. Could she be completely sure Auror Tonks was legit? Ah, but Ron would have said something if he saw anyone suspicious on the Map. She looked around to make sure no one else was listening, and then spoke in a low voice, “Harry Potter thinks something’s going to happen tonight.”

“Oh? You know Harry?”

“Uh huh. Some of us are keeping a lookout in case it does.”

“You should leave that to the professionals,” Tonks said, suddenly all business. “What’s supposed to happen?”

“We don’t know. Something involving Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape. In fact, I need to get back to Snape’s office.” She started off down the stairs.

“Snape?” Tonks hurried to walk alongside her. “What’s up with Snape? He’s on our side.”

Matilda just shrugged. “Harry doesn’t trust him, I guess.”

“Where _is_ Harry, anyway.”

She hesitated. Hermione seemed to think that was a secret. Should she say he was with Dumbledore? “He wasn’t available,” she answered. “That’s why we’re helping out.”

“You should still let the professionals handle it,” Tonks insisted. “This isn’t something for kids to get mixed up in.”

“We’re just keeping an eye out so we can warn people, Auror Tonks. Harry was worried that if Snape was in on it, he’d know how to bypass security.”

She sighed: “Fine. But if something _does_ happen, you stay out of it, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

Hermione verified that Tonks was on the level and was glad that she was willing to listen to Harry’s concerns, even though Hermione herself still didn’t put much stock in them. They waited another half hour without any information before they decided Matilda should maybe make another run upstairs.

She ran up the Grand Staircase a third time, rested enough that she made the run with little trouble, but this time, something was wrong. As she approached the Room of Requirement, she heard incoherent shouting and saw an inky, black cloud filling the corridor with tendrils reaching out toward her.

She skidded to a halt, staring with wide eyes. That definitely wasn’t normal. Almost certainly Malfoy’s play. Should she get closer and try to figure out what was going on?

“Hey!” There was a shout, and a bolt of red light came out of the darkness, aimed at her with startling accuracy. She dodged it, then turned and ran.

“The mini-mudblood’s out there! Stop her!” She recognised the voice as Draco Malfoy’s, and her pulse quickened. He was _really_ out to get her this time. She knew too much. She heard a thudding of heavy, running footsteps behind her. With a flick of her wrist, she toppled a suit of armour as she ran by, hoping to slow down her assailant and attract some attention.

She was rewarded by a loud clatter and swearing behind her, but it didn’t slow her pursuer down for long. With whoever it was gaining on her, Matilda reached the Grand Staircase, but the stairs had moved. She’d have to run around to the other side of the stairwell to find a way down. She turned around and saw her pursuer. He was a big, burly man in tight-fitting black robes, with an unnaturally hairy face and pointed teeth, running straight for her. She knew his face from the Wanted posters: Fenrir Greyback, the most vicious werewolf in Europe.

Well, no doubt what Malfoy’s plan was now. And no time left. She did the only thing she could think of, climbed up on the railing, and jumped.

Matilda flailed her arms and legs as she tried to direct her magic to carry her across the oversize stairwell. She finally caught herself on the sixth floor railing on the other side with a hard impact against her chest. She grabbed hold, hanging on the outside of the railing, and looked up at Greyback.

The werewolf snarled at her, quickly getting over his shock. She prayed he wouldn’t just try to make the jump himself. She didn’t think she’d be able to levitate that much weight. Instead, he did something even more unsettling. He dropped to all fours to run to the other side of the stairwell and come after her.

Matilda made another jump, steadier this time, and grabbed onto the fifth floor railing without bruising a rib. Looking down the hall, she saw another suit of armour and toppled it over to make another crash. She saw another Auror run into the stairwell to investigate as she made the next jump.

“Death Eaters in the castle!” she shouted. “Death Eaters on the seventh floor! To arms! To arms!” Okay, that sounded silly, but she kept going. She felt like that American bloke, Paul Revere. It would have been funny if it weren’t so terrifying.

Finally, after jumping the rest of the way to the dungeons, she ran back to Hermione and Luna, who were standing tense in the corridor. Snape was nowhere to be seen.

“Matilda, what happened?” Hermione hissed. “What’s all that noise.”

“Death Eaters!” she said in a low voice. “There was a black cloud outside the Room. Greyback was there, and he chased me. I alerted the castle. What should we do about Snape?”

Hermione bit her lip and stared at the office door. “He’s really just been in there the whole time?”

“He was half an hour ago when Ron checked the Map.”

“Then I think we need to tell him. He’d be upstairs if he were in on this.” She walked up to the door and knocked.

Snape opened the door moments later. “What?” he demanded, looking cross.

“There are Death Eaters in the castle, Professor.”

His cross expression snapped to tense and alert in an instant. “Where?” he said, even as he strode forward and shut his door behind him.

“The Room of Requirement, sir,” Matilda said. “Fenrir Greyback chased me down the stairs.”

He paused in mid-stride to look at her, apparently inspecting her for injuries. “Return to your dormitory, Honey,” he said. “Take these two with you until it’s safe.” And he left without another word.

The three girls looked at each other. “I’m still not comfortable about it,” Hermione said. “You’d think the Felix Felicis would give me a clue what to do. It worked great for Harry, but I’ve got nothing.”

Luna frowned. “Maybe it’s telling you there aren’t any good options,” she said thoughtfully.

“That makes me even more worried...I think we should follow Snape, just in case. Matilda, you really _should_ go back to your dorm. It’s too dangerous for a third-year.”

Matilda straightened and nodded. Being chased by Fenrir Greyback had made that clear enough. “Good luck,” she said. The other girls ran after Snape while she returned to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

Hannah Abbott jumped up as soon as she came in the door. “Honey!” she said. “What’s happening? Your roommates said you sneaked out, and then we heard all that noise—”

“There are Death Eaters in the castle,” she repeated. Hannah let out a gasp, but Matilda pushed on. “They were on the seventh floor. There are Aurors and the teachers fighting them, and a few of the D.A. people, but I don’t know any more than that.”

“What do we do?” Hannah said in horror.

Susan Bones came up and joined them. “We should be prepared to defend the dorm, Hannah,” she said. “We won’t gain much by going on the offensive, but we need to protect the younger students.”

Hannah took a deep breath. “Right. Where’s Ernie? _Ernie!_ Round up the other prefects, and do a head count. Make sure no one else sneaked out. Honey, can you help barricade the door?”

Matilda jumped up from where she had just sat down. _That_ was something she could help with.

* * *

It felt like ages, but was probably less than an hour, before Professor McGonagall’s voice sounded through the castle and sounded all-clear. Of course, seeing as it was past midnight, no one was supposed to be out in the corridors regardless, but this was Hogwarts. No one was going to pay attention to that. The older Hufflepuffs pulled down the barricade almost before Matilda could blink.

When the door opened, Matilda raced through the hallways as she tried to find out what had happened and searched for her friends. The hardest part of the ordeal had been not knowing what had happened to them.

The school looked better than it might have. There were scorch marks on the walls and floor, and there was quite the mess in the Great Hall, but there was little other damage—no collapsed walls or bleeding students or teachers lying in the corridors. She hoped that meant everyone had got out under their own power. The crowd swelled with members of other houses as they approached the front doors, following the trail outside. There was more damage out here. Fires burned around the grounds, but the Death Eater’s _did_ seem to have been repelled.

But then, the horrible news started drifting through the crowd. _“Dumbledore’s dead!”_

“No,” she whispered.

Matilda shoved her way through the crowd. She was taller now, but she still had trouble getting a clear view around the older students. She spotted Hagrid first, standing at the base of the Astronomy Tower, where people seemed to be congregating. A loud howl sounded over the crowd from his dog.

When she pushed through far enough to see, she recognised Ginny Weasley—and _Harry_. Of course, if Harry had been out with Dumbledore, he would be back now. Ginny and Harry both were tear-stricken as she led him by the hand back to the castle. That had to mean...Beyond them, Matilda saw a dark shape on ground and soon placed the midnight blue robes, long grey beard, and half-moon spectacles. It was Dumbledore, and he wasn’t moving.

“He’s dead,” she whispered to herself, taking in the scene. It was unbelievable. Dumbledore being dead was like saying that Hogwarts didn’t exist anymore. He was almost as much a fixture as the castle itself, besides the fact that everyone said he was the most powerful wizard in the world. And yet, the proof was before her. She had no details on what had happened, but the fact of the matter was that Dumbledore would no longer walk these hallways.

She stood there a while, lost in the moment, much like most of the students. Even some of the Slytherins looked sullen. A few were even scared. Slowly, however, she remembered her other friends. She’d only seen Ginny out here. Hermione and the others were nowhere to be seen.

Without much thinking about it, she let her steps carry her to the Hospital Wing. Harry’s friends had been in the thick of it. They would surely be in the Hospital Wing…if they were still alive.

But she only got halfway there when the song started, and she stopped where she stood. It was a song like nothing she had ever heard before, that seemed to be more magic than notes. It seemed to come from as high above her as the stars and ringing from the walls of the castle and inside her own chest all at once, and it was a thing of indescribable beauty. Matilda knew, by instinct more than logic, that this could only be the song of Dumbledore’s phoenix, Fawkes, mourning for his…master? No, friend. And when she heard it, she sank to the floor, back against the wall, and cried.

* * *

Matilda didn’t get to the Hospital Wing until the next morning. She didn’t remember going to bed. She only had vague memories of one of the older Hufflepuffs finding her and leading her back to the Common Room after assuring her that no one else had died.

Neville and Luna turned out to be the only ones of her acquaintances who still needed the Infirmary, and even they were on the mend, but as luck would have it, the rest of them were visiting when she arrived.

“Hermione!” she exclaimed when she saw them surrounding Neville and Luna's beds, and ran over to hug her friend. “I was so worried!”

“I’m fine, Matilda,” Hermione saw through red eyes. “I’m just glad you stayed in your common room…You _did_ stay in your common room, didn’t you?”

Matilda nodded. "Susan, Hannah, and I rounded up the other prefects and barricaded the doors. We were on guard in case someone got past you and tried for the students."

Hermione relaxed. "Didn't expect less of you. I just can't believe…" she let the sentence trail. "I mean… he's gone."

“How did it happen?” Matilda asked as gently as she could, looking to Harry

“ _Snape_ killed him,” Harry spat.

“ _Snape?_ But…” They had spoken to him just last night. They had tipped him off. “I never would’ve thought—”

“Am I the only one he _didn_ _’t_ fool?”

She flinched back. “I’m sorry, Harry. I know he could be unfair, but I just…didn’t think he was that bad. I’ve seen cruel, violent, evil teachers…teachers like Umbridge. But I guess I never saw Snape like that. He was mean sometimes, but mostly, he was just a teacher.”

“Well, he wasn’t so good at that, either.”

Matilda shrugged.

“Harry,” Hermione tried to help. “Even you only had suspicions about Snape. There was even less evidence against him than there was against Malfoy.”

“Yeah? And look where that got us,” he snarled.

“What happened with Malfoy?” Matilda asked.

“Malfoy was _supposed_ to be the one to kill Dumbledore. He’s been working on it all year. Katie Bell being cursed? Ron being poisoned? Those were him trying to get to Dumbledore. And he’s the one who let the Death Eaters into the school last night. He had Dumbledore cornered on the Astronomy Tower. Disarmed him. But he hesitated. Guess he got cold feet when he had to cast the curse himself…so Snape did it for him.”

That was maybe even more shocking than Snape’s actions, she thought—that a student was plotting to kill the Headmaster. Maybe it was because Jenny was a headmistress herself that she felt that way, but even the Trunchbull had never got that treatment. “So…Malfoy was _ordered_ to kill Dumbledore?” she said hesitantly.

“He’s a Death Eater, Honey,” he snapped. “Dark Mark and everything, not that anyone listened to _that_ either. Voldemort wanted him to…well, it’s not important. Snape was always supposed to _really_ be the one to kill Dumbledore. He made an Unbreakable Vow.”

An Unbreakable Vow? That really _was_ serious. “And Dumbledore didn’t know?”

“He _should_ _’ve_ ,” Harry said. “I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen.” He sighed. “I guess Snape did have to have Dumbledore fooled,” he admitted. “Or…I don’t know. He gave the lamest excuse ever for why he turned good, and Dumbledore believed it.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry hesitated like he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it. “When Voldemort came to kill my mum and dad…” he started. “Er, well, I can’t tell you everything, but I found out last night it was Snape who gave him the information that led him to them. I told Dumbledore he couldn’t trust Snape, but he wouldn’t listen. He said Snape was sorry it got them killed—like _them in particular_ , which is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! Snape _hated_ my dad. And he called my mum a mudblood, so he didn’t think she was worth a damn, either.”

Matilda stared in horror. From what she’d seen, it was only the true bigots who said that word. Was Snape a true believer the whole time? Was he hiding his hatred of muggle-borns underneath general misanthropy? But it didn’t make sense! This was _Dumbledore_ they were talking about.

“Dumbledore wasn’t stupid,” she said, almost automatically. It was true. The few times she’d talked to him, he seemed like one of the shrewdest men she’d ever met.

Harry sighed again. “No, he wasn’t,” he admitted, “but he always had to believe the best in people…I think he believed it of my aunt and uncle, too. And Snape is…” He trailed off and exchanged a look with Hermione and Ron. “Well, he’s a _really_ good liar—like, _magically_ good at it…I dunno, maybe you’re right, Honey. He really could fool almost everyone.”

That…that actually made a weird sort of sense. She didn’t want it to. She wanted to protest—wanted to find _anything_ to make it right. Could it have been a trick somehow? She couldn’t see how. Or could Dumbledore have been sick and not told anyone? He did have that withered hand all year. But deep down, she knew she was just grasping at straws, hoping for anything that would make things okay again.

“So…what happens now?” she asked in a small voice.

Harry exchanged another look with Hermione and Ron. “Well, we have things we can do, but that’s really secret, like, James Bond stuff. For everyone else, McGonagall was saying they’ll hold the funeral, and that’s it. End the term early. After that…listen, Honey,” he said. “You’d better keep an eye out this summer. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but it’ll be a lot easier for Voldemort to take over. And if that happens, all the muggle-borns are gonna be in big trouble.”

“Might be better if you leave the country, to be honest,” Ron suggested. To her surprise, all of the others nodded.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “I know I’m not one to talk, but I’m of age—”

“And top of our class,” Ron added.

“Yes, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes. "But for younger muggle-borns like you, you’re not going to be able to stand up to the Death Eaters if they’re given free rein. You’ll be a lot safer if you leave.”

"That serious?" Matilda questioned.

Harry nodded. "Yes. Get out quickly, while it's still a possibility. It's only a matter of time before things hit the fan. When they do, you won't be safe. Especially you. You were involved last night, and you’re friends with us. The Death Eaters might think you know something about where we're going, so…” She didn’t need to finish the statement.

That properly scared Matilda. "All right. I'll have to convince Jenny. We thought it would just mean transferring to Beauxbatons while staying in England, but I know she'll understand." She levelled the trio with a firm gaze. "Just promise me you three will keep yourselves safe as much as possible. I know you're trying to save us all, but think of yourselves too."

"Absolutely," Hermione agreed.

Ron nodded. "Think we'd let this git do things that are too crazy? Nah."

Matilda smiled at them. "I know. I’ll miss you guys."

"I can't wait until this is all over," Harry sighed.

Matilda chuckled. "No kidding. Maybe once it's done, you guys, Jenny, and I can do something to celebrate."

"Looking forward to it," Hermione said. "It'll be nice to have something to look forward to."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Never do anything by halves if you want to get away with it. Be Roald Dahl. Go the whole JK Rowling. Make sure everything you do is so completely crazy it's unbelievable.
> 
> Sorry for the delay. We had some logistical problems getting this chapter done. This is the big finale, but there’s a short epilogue still to come. Thank you all for reading.

Matilda was downcast when she met Jenny at the train station, much as she’d been after Cedric’s death, but this time, all of the witches and wizards at the station were in as dark a mood as her own. The whole place was far more subdued than she’d ever seen it. She hugged Jenny in silence for a couple minutes before they made the slow trek out.

“I suppose it must be hard on everyone,” Jenny said her once they were in the car. “Even apart from this magical war, from what you’ve said and what I’ve read in your books, it sounds like almost everyone in the whole country knew him as a head teacher—at least everyone under the age of…fifty? Sixty?”

“Eighty or ninety,” Matilda said. “Wizards live longer than muggles, and they said Dumbledore was a regular teacher for a long time before he was Headmaster. But I think most of them are more worried about the war.”

“It’s that bad, then?”

“Bad enough that people are scared, Jenny. More scared than they were all year. No one knows what’s happening, but everyone says more troubles are coming. The magical world already felt like capital-T Troubles, but it definitely sounds like things are going to blow up any day now. I wish I could do more, but—”

“Matilda, you’re only thirteen,” Jenny said. “And I don’t want you fighting in a war at all. This is a lot bigger than someone like the Trunchbull or that Umbridge woman.”

“I know. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley said I’d be better off if I left the country, and I believe them. It’s like we discussed last year. Nowhere in Britain will be safe—actually, for both of us, probably.”

“Both of us?”

“The Death Eaters go after families,” she said. “Sometimes, they go after people for no apparent reason. They go after people in their homes, children who are too young for school…” She sniffed, remembering the stories she’d been told over the past year. “I told you one of the older girls in my class lost her mother at the start of the year. Even if I’m out of the country…they could still come for you. They might think we know something about Harry.”

“Oh…” Jenny said. “We’ll certainly have to consider it then, but I’ll have to do something about Crunchem Hall. I can’t just leave the school.”

“From the sounds of it, they’ll be safer if you do before too long. There could still be random attacks anyway, but…I wouldn’t put it past them to come for you there.”

Jenny took a deep breath and set her expression firmly. _No one_ messed with her school. “Then I suppose we’ll have to act quickly.”

* * *

Life at Beauxbatons was much different than Hogwarts. There was more emphasis on respect for authority than Matilda was used to, for starters. It would be a lot harder to get away with her pranks here. Not that any of them gave her reason to do so, but it was a surprise to learn.

She was placed in the 4 _emé_ level classes, even though the years were structured a bit different. It didn't take her long to learn that Beauxbatons was a bit slower-paced than Hogwarts, since their O.W.L.-equivalent exams were done at 6 _emé_ level. As such, Matilda was quickly up among the top of her classes.

The one big downside was that at this point, many of the students already had their friend groups, and so were less interested in including her. They weren't rude to her, but she could sense that a lot of the time, they weren’t making an effort to fit her in.

One day, as she sat at lunch, one of the younger students sat across from her. " _You are Matilda Honey_?" she asked.

" _Yeah, I am_ ," Matilda said. " _I'm surprised anyone noticed me here._ "

" _Oh, I remember you_!" the girl exclaimed. " _You were at the second task. My sister told me that you calmed her down and told her I would be all right_."

Matilda remembered. " _Fleur's sister?"_

The younger girl nodded. "Yes, I am Gabrielle. I have been wanting to talk to you, but never got a chance."

Matilda smiled. "Well, it'll be nice to have someone to talk to, at least. How is your sister, anyway?"

"She is married!" Gabrielle answered. "She lives in England now, with her husband, Bill Weasley."

Matilda's eyes widened. "Bill Weasley? That's a surprise if I've ever heard one. What else has changed?"

* * *

Matilda wasn’t ignorant of the goings-on back home while she was at Beauxbatons. It was still possible to get the _Daily Prophet_ delivered, even overseas, and no one seemed to object to a muggle-born being on the subscription list.

Of course, they probably weren’t complaining about their propaganda being spread further. The Death Eaters must have taken lessons from Orwell, Matilda thought. Officially, everything was fine. Voldemort and the Death Eaters had quietly vanished from the headlines. There weren’t any real _explanations_ for the terror of the past year. They didn’t come out and say it, but the way they were acting implied that the whole thing was a ruse on Dumbledore’s and/or Harry Potter’s part. Mostly, the Ministry spouted assurances that any vaguely-defined threats were “under control” whilst simultaneously elevating Harry to “Undesirable Number 1” and a suspect in Dumbledore’s death.

Hogwarts had restarted normally, although Snape had been made Headmaster. That was…odd. Even if they believed he hadn’t been the one to kill Dumbledore (there weren’t any “trustworthy” witnesses anymore), McGonagall had taken Dumbledore’s place when he died. But the Ministry had meddled with Hogwarts under Fudge and Umbridge, and they would have even fewer qualms about doing it now.

Speaking of Umbridge, she was now in charge of something called the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. That was getting pretty transparent—at least to her. They were claiming that muggle-borns couldn’t really happen genetically or some such, and magic could only come from a wizarding family. Matilda snorted. If Harry or Zinnia Wormwood had been magical, that would have to be the biggest waste of magic ever. Anyway, they were supposed to “investigate” muggle-borns for “stealing” magic, which garnered loud protests from her new friends.

“I just hope the other muggle-borns are smart enough not to fall for it,” she said. Come to think of it, they all came into the magical world at age eleven; a lot of them might not have read Orwell. But what could she do from here? Not much besides wait for word that was coming filtered through the Death Eaters’ machine.

It was going to be a long year.

* * *

It was getting late, even for a Friday night, when Matilda noticed it—a burning sensation in her pocket. She quickly pulled out her Dumbledore’s Army coin—the coin she had taken to carrying again even in France after they had used it to call for help when the Death Eaters attacked last year. She looked down, and written on the fool’s gold were two lines:

_LIGHTNING HAS STRUCK_

_HOG’S HEAD_

Matilda sucked in a breath, suddenly going tense. “Lightning has struck” must mean that Harry Potter had been sighted. The Hog’s Head was obviously a rallying point of some kind, and if it was in Hogsmeade, it seemed obvious that a message of such urgency indicated there was some kind of battle happening at Hogwarts—Hogwarts, which was supposed to be under Death Eater control already. Were they taking back the school somehow? Had Harry been captured? Or was he mounting some kind of last stand?

She didn’t know. The main thing was that now, she had to decide what to do about it. She _could_ do nothing. Just wait and listen for word—again. That was probably what she _should_ do. She was only fourteen, after all, and certainly not a fully-qualified witch.

But who was she kidding? She’d had to stand by and watch far too many times already, and besides, she knew she couldn’t resist sticking her nose in things.

She could go ask Madame Maxime for a ride, since she was in contact with some of Dumbledore’s close allies. But as her Headmistress, she would probably say no.

She could ask Gabrielle Delacour and hope her family had some kind of back-door way into Britain that she could use quickly.

She could make her own way, but that would take time. She was pretty sure she’d need to take the train from Calais to Dover even if the Floo took her the rest of the way.

And then, she remembered. She had a friend on the inside—of Britain, anyway—and a way to contact her on short notice. She hoped.

It took some doing to sneak out of the castle and down to Baton Vert, but she managed it. She took a broom from the Broom Shed for speed and made her way to the one public telephone in the village. Once there, she dialled a number she had memorised over a year ago, but hadn’t had reason to call since she’d come to France.

The voice on the other end sounded hurried: “Haywood residence.”

“Beatrice? It’s Matilda Honey.”

“Matilda!” she squealed. “Oh, wow. Okay, uh, how did you find out what happened to Rowan?”

Matilda blinked as she remembered the guidance on security questions. Not something they’d had to worry about in France. “You told me right after Cedric died,” she said. “I led you up in the stands to get you away from the crowds. It was the first time you ever really talked about her.”

“Alright, what’s up?” Beatrice said.

“I don’t know how much you know, but—”

“Something’s going down at Hogwarts? Yeah, I know. You caught me right before I left. How did _you_ know, though?”

“My DA coin. What about you?”

Matilda could almost hear the grin through the phone. “I’ve got someone on the inside. What do you need?”

“I need a way to get to Hogwarts in time to make a difference. I know you’re probably going to tell me to stay out of it, but I just can’t anymore. I have too many friends there, and there have been too many—”

Beatrice cut her off: “I wasn’t going to tell you to stay out of it, Matilda. I was younger than you when I started fighting. Look, I can’t make any promises with you being in France, but I know someone I can send to fetch you. If anyone can smuggle you into the country, it’s him. Now, you should still have public Floo access there. Can you get to Calais…?”

* * *

It thankfully wasn’t a long wait at the public Floo in Calais before her ride appeared. She was looking around for anyone out of place, and she almost missed him when he stepped out of the shadows. He was an unassuming man of Korean descent, as Beatrice had said, but his gaze was sharp, and he had his wand at the ready.

“Matilda Honey?” he asked.

“Jae Kim?” she replied.

He eyed her suspiciously. “What is the Circle of Khanna?”

She took a deep breath and repeated the pass phrase Beatrice had told her: “Infinite, unbroken, forever.”

Jae Kim lowered his wand. “I hear you need to get to Hogwarts.”

“Yes, as soon as possible, please,” she said.

Suddenly, he grinned. “Then you’ve come to the right smuggler.”

* * *

There was a scuffling sound and an awkward thud. Someone had clambered out of the tunnel and stumbled, and was now leaning forward at an impossible angle that ought to see him fall on his face. He looked up at the crowd through his horn-rimmed glasses and said, “Are we too late? Has it started? I only just found out, and Honey—”

A fourteen-year-old girl with dishevelled bangs stepped out from behind Percy Weasley. A flick of her wrist set him back on his feet. “—and I was in France,” she said.

There was silence in the...was this the Room of Requirement? A gaggle of redheads were staring at the two of them (or more probably at Percy) with shocked expressions. But she was distracted from the family reunion by someone shouting, “Matilda!” and a young blond woman dressed all in black pushed through the crowd to grab her in a hug.

“Beatrice! It’s so good to see you!” Matilda said.

“You too,” Beatrice said. “It’s good to have you on our side.” She looked at her wistfully. “You’ve really grown up.”

Matilda blushed slightly. “I just hope my magic has grown up enough.”

“Hey, if anyone can handle the Death Eaters, it’s you,” she said with a grin.

Another woman approached who resembled Beatrice, except for having her hair in long plaits. “Bea?” she asked.

“Oh, Penny, this is Matilda Honey,” Beatrice said. “Matilda, this is my sister, Penny.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Matilda said, shaking her hand.

“Likewise, but honestly, I don’t think you should be here, Matilda. You’re too young—”

“Hey, weren’t you fighting Acromantulas at her age, Penny?” Beatrice cut in. “Matilda can handle herself. Anyway, is anyone else from the Circle of Khanna coming?”

Penny shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ve lost contact with most of them. I just heard Tonks is home with a new baby. Charlie’s in Romania. Merula and Barnaby are hiding from their families. I assume Maya’s still with MAGINTERPOL…”

“Ben? Diego?”

“I haven’t seen them. They might not have had time to get here.”

The Weasley family’s reunion seemed to have broken off. They were trying to decide on a course of action when the woman who must have been Mrs. Weasley turned her attention to Matilda. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “You’re too young to be involved in this.”

Matilda opened her mouth to answer, but at that moment, there was a commotion, as Harry Potter stumbled, clutching his head, needing a couple of his friends to catch him.

“Harry!” Ginny Weasley said, crouching beside him.“What is it?”

“He’s here,” Harry gasped. “Voldemort’s at the gates.”

* * *

It hadn’t been difficult to slip by in all the confusion and avoid any further questions about her being there, but as she watched the castle evacuating, Matilda wondered a second time if she should be doing this. She wasn’t the only underage student trying to stay and fight, but she thought she might be the youngest. Only Beatrice’s reassuring grin convinced her to stay.

There was one tense moment when she ducked around a corner and came face to face with an older boy in Slytherin robes. She froze, wide-eyed, and he stared at her for a minute, neither of them speaking. Even if he didn’t know who she was, she would be immediately recognised as one of the people who sneaked in, not being in uniform. But after what seemed like ages, he turned tail and ducked into a different alcove. It seemed some of the Slytherins who were being sent away had the same idea she did.

The first thing the defenders of Hogwarts did was to go up to the battlements. At present, the doors were being guarded by transfigured stone statues and suits of armour, but curses were crashing through the windows and pounding against the outer walls. When she reached the roof, Matilda collapsed to her knees in pain as the shrill cry of a mandrake, deadly at close range, cut through the air as it was thrown over the wall. It was cut off only moments later, though, either by a Silencing Charm or something more final.

Matilda found herself unsure of what to do. She could try to cast some curses down at the Death Eaters surrounding the castle, or she had her wandless magic, but in a fight for her life, she wished she had a better strategy than, “throw rocks at them.” She tried both regardless, although at that range, it was hard to tell if she was doing much damage.

Unfortunately, even the mighty wards of Hogwarts Castle couldn’t hold for long under that assault. Almost from the moment the curses started flying, the walls were shaking, sometimes rocked by massive explosions that felt like they could have been bombs dropped from muggle aeroplanes. After one particularly nasty boom that was followed by a sound of falling rocks, someone called out, “They’re inside! Hurry!”

Matilda ran down the stairs, no longer hiding in the shadows from the teachers, meeting back up with Beatrice on the way. There was no backing out now. All they could do was slow down the Death Eaters long enough for Harry to do whatever it was he needed to do.

The first challenge came as soon as they reached the seventh-floor corridor outside the Room or Requirement. A hole was blown through the wall, and coming through the hole was something she had read about, but never seen in person: a pack of spiders the size of horses running at them.

Matilda jabbed her wand and tried to repel them. “ _Bombarda!_ ” she cried. _“Diffindo! Reducto!_ ” Her spells struck true, and Beatrice fought right alongside her but there were too many of them.

Penny ran up from behind them. “Oh, not again!” she said. _“Arania Exumai!_ ”

A blast of white light knocked the whole pack over and sent them scurrying away. “You were saying about Acromantulas?” she said.

“Bloody hell. Can’t believe I forgot that one,” Beatrix muttered. “Come on.”

They hurried to the nearest staircase and started climbing down, but the castle was in total chaos by now. They didn’t get halfway down to the ground floor before a couple of Death Eaters appeared and sent them running for cover.

“Got any prank ideas that could stop a Death Eater?” Beatrice asked as she and Matilda cast back from behind an alcove.

Matilda frowned in thought. “Not that we have time to set up,” she said. “Can’t exactly put a bucket of water on top of a door when they mean to break down the entire wall—”

“ _Duck!_ ” Beatrice yelled.

She dropped into a crouch and pulled Matilda with her as a spell shattered the pillar just above their heads. They were knocked out into the corridor by the falling debris. One of the Death Eaters stepped out and levelled his wand at them.

“Nowhere to run now,” he said, but then, there was a flash of red light, and he collapsed with a jerk.

Standing behind him was the person who had stunned him, and to Matilda’s surprise, it was another Death Eater—a tall woman who oddly was wearing a Slytherin scarf. Then, she pulled off her skull mask, revealing a pale, lean face and asymmetrical bangs much like Beatrice’s.

“Ismelda!” Beatrice jumped up and hugged the woman.

“Ismelda?” Matilda said.

“I told you I had someone on the inside,” Beatrice said smugly. “This is my best friend, Ismelda Murk. Thanks so much for coming—”

“Yeah, yeah, less sappy reunions, more fighting,” Ismelda cut her off. “I know a secret passage to the other side of the castle. If we hurry, we can outflank them.”

* * *

Matilda was racing down a corridor, casting spell after spell to defend herself. She'd managed to get separated from Beatrice and Ismelda, but was so far holding her own.

"Wotcher!" Matilda heard someone call. She turned just in time to see a woman with spiky pink hair casting a spell at a pursuer, stunning them. The witch then approached, wand held up cautiously.

“Auror Tonks?” Matilda said in surprise, finally recognising her.

“Yes? You’re the Honey girl, aren’t you,” Auror Tonks said. “What are you doing here? This is no place for kids.”

Matilda opened her mouth, but then, she put two and two together and turned her wand on Tonks, whose eyes widened. “What did you say I was better than you at doing last year?” she demanded.

“What? I—It was running away from teachers, wasn’t it? Why?”

Matilda turned her wand away, still scanning for enemies. “You weren’t supposed to be here. Penny Haywood said you were at home with a new baby. I had to make sure.”

Auror Tonks blushed uncomfortably. “Teddy is with my mother. I couldn’t stay away when Remus and everyone else is fighting.”

Matilda could understand feeling like she needed to do something, but still. "But, what if…"

Tonks seemed to gain some of her bravado as she said, "Oh, they won't be able to get me, Honey. Don't worry about that."

Still, she did. If both Tonks and Remus were here, their baby could end up an orphan. She thought she’d already seen people fallen on both sides. Nevertheless, she dropped the subject. "The castle is crawling with Death Eaters, where should we go?"

Before Tonks could answer, a sickly sweet voice called down the corridor, “Well, well, well, _there’s_ the little half-breed bitch.”

They both whirled to face the newcomer. “Bellatrix!” Tonks hissed.

Matilda had heard the horror stories about what this woman had done. From killing Sirius Black, to driving the Longbottoms insane, this was someone who didn't care about the carnage she left behind.

Bellatrix didn't bother with preamble. Matilda's heart turned cold as she heard her cast, " _Crucio!_ " too fast for even an Auror to dodge. The next moment, the corridor was filled with Tonks' screams. Matilda could think of nothing to do. She knew from "Moody" that nothing could block the Cruciatus Curse.

Matilda quickly scanned the surroundings. There was a staircase nearby, and an inkling of an idea came to her. But how to get Lestrange’s attention?

"Stop it!" Matilda yelled. "I'm muggleborn, don't you want to kill me too?"

Bellatrix eyed the girl before her. "The wittle girl wants to fight like a woman? I'll oblige."

The first spell was easy enough for Matilda to deflect, but subsequent ones weren't so. She barely managed to dodge a Killing Curse because she was already running, trying to manoeuvre the madwoman, but slowly, Bellatrix was before the stairs. Quickly, Matilda gave a wandless shove and knocked Bellatrix down the stairs. It was the best she could do for now.

Matilda rushed to Tonks, who was slowly recovering from the Cruciatus Curse. "Are you alright?" Matilda asked, helping her stand.

"Maybe I spoke too soon,” Tonks breathed. “She would have killed me. You saved my life, Honey."

Matilda ducked her head in embarrassment. "I didn't do that much, I just pushed her down the stairs."

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "Nothing? Not many people could stand against Bellatrix Lestrange and survive."

Meeting Tonks' eyes, Matilda saw the gratitude in them. Tonks was alive because of her. "I guess not." She noticed blood trickling down Tonks’s face from hitting her head on the floor. "You should go to the Great Hall. I heard they were setting up a medical area there."

“You should get to the Great Hall, too. It’s the most secure place right now,” Tonks told her.

"I need to find Beatrice, first," Matilda objected. "I got separated from her a bit ago."

"We'll search on the way," Tonks suggested. She gestured to the stairs. "Before she comes to. She’ll be after you too after that stunt."

"All right."

The two of them started making their way to the Great Hall. By this time, much of the fighting had moved to the upper floors, leaving the way to the Great Hall relatively clear of foes. There were still some, but the Tonks and Matilda were easily able to dispatch them.

* * *

Finally, they found Beatrice fighting against a Death Eater. She quickly took him down, and then looked around, spotting Tonks and Matilda. "Tonks!" She exclaimed. "I thought you were at home with the baby.”

"My mother is watching him," Tonks explained.

"She's clean," Matilda said. "I checked."

“Good girl. We have to get to the Great Hall,” Beatrice said. “Let’s try this way.” 

"We were just heading that way," Matilda responded. "Let's go!"

Tonks stayed. "I still need to find Remus. I'll see you there."

Matilda and Beatrice hurried down one of the other corridors, just as rubble-filled as the others. They could only hope the rest of the way was clear.

As they turned a corner, disaster struck. When they rounded the corner they came face to face with three Death Eaters, grinning wickedly.

Without saying a word, one of them made a slashing motion with his wand, and an evil-looking curse surged out at them. Matilda and Beatrice dove to opposite sides. Matilda put up a Shield Charm on general principle until she could see what was going on. That wouldn’t hold against a lot of what they were using, but it was something. Then, the corridor was awash with spellfire.

Matilda didn’t shy away from hexing them back. She lashed out at them with what curses she knew and also flung bits of rubble at them with wandless magic, but she could already tell it wasn’t enough. She could barely keep up with spells the Death Eaters were throwing at them, some of them dark curses that she knew she wouldn’t be able to block. Both she and Beatrice shielded what they could and dodged the rest. The air was so thick with curses that she didn’t even have a clear view of what happened, but Beatrice fell.

 _“Beatrice!”_ Matilda screamed.

There was a brief pause, just enough to make out the scene, but the pool of blood spreading on the floor told her it was already too late. She looked back up at the three Death Eaters, white-faced.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” one of them said.

“You done fighting?” asked another.

Matilda stood frozen in shock, looking far more terrified than she wanted, but her anger was rapidly burning through, catching even herself unawares. They’d taken Beatrice from her. After everything else. It was too much to bear, and she wasn’t going to roll over. She tightened her grip on her wand.

“You don’t want to do that,” the third Death Eater said in a distinctly creepy tone. “Just stay where you are, little girl, and you won’t wind up like your friend.”

“Yeah, we can find some other use for you,” another one sneered. “I hear Greyback’s been looking for a new toy.”

Matilda was shaking. She felt her magic crackling around her, rapidly slipping her control in a way she hadn’t felt since she’d first mastered it when she was six and a half years old. The control exercises she’d learnt from Professor Dumbledore’s book barely even crossed her mind. Everything in the corridor started rattling. Her magic lashed out, grabbing for anything in reach—swords and axes from the fallen suits of armour, pieces of rubble, improvised weapons like Trelawney’s crystal balls—anything in sight.

“No more Miss Nice Girl,” she snarled.

The first Death Eater had just enough time to say, “Hey, what’s she doing?”

A primal scream of rage erupted from Matilda, and everything in the corridor that wasn’t nailed down hurled itself at the Death Eaters with berserker fury. The swords whirled and spun, hacking with superhuman speed. Rocks pounded at their shields hard enough to push them back. She couldn’t grab a psychic hand onto them directly through their Shield Charms, but there were gaps in their coverage—she made sure of that. Green light flashed from one of their wands, but an actual wooden shield leapt into the path of the beam and exploded. And nearly the same instant, an axe hurled end-over-end and buried itself in that same Death Eater’s shoulder. Another one tripped as his own shoes tore themselves off and beat him about the head.

With their defences broken, they went down hard and fast. Blood spurted. Rock met bone with a loud crack. The pounding continued until well after they stopped moving, and Matilda finally dropped to her knees.

She heard rapid footsteps approaching, and a voice as anguished as her own.

* * *

Susan came staggering back from the corridor, a thousand-yard stare on her face. She and Oliver Wood had gone to investigate the scream. It had sounded like someone young—too young to be fighting here, and they knew Beatrice Haywood was supposed to be down that way. But her shock when she returned was surprising even in the heat of battle.

Hannah jumped up and ran to her. “Susie, are you okay?” she asked her friend.

“I…y-yeah,” she managed.

“What happened?”

“It was bad, Hannah. Haywood was already dead. It was just Honey against three Death Eaters. Oliver and I couldn’t get a clear shot…”

Hannah gasped. “They killed Matilda?”

Susan shook her head.

“Susan, _what happened?_ ” Hannah asked insistently.

“I’m still not sure _what_ I saw. All I know is, never, _ever_ make Honey angry.”

“Honey…? You’re saying Matilda killed the _Death Eaters_?”

“There wasn’t anyone else there who could’ve done it.”

“But she always seemed so sweet,” Hannah said. “Sure, she pranked Umbridge and stuff, but…She’s only fourteen. She shouldn’t even _be_ here!”

“And she killed three Death Eaters all by herself. Maybe she got the drop on them, but it was _brutal_.”

“That bad?”

“…We might have trouble identifying the bodies,” said Susan.

“Merlin!” Hannah just couldn’t imagine little Matilda doing something like that. Sure, she was a whiz with wandless magic. She could maybe guess _how_ it had been done, but the image didn’t make any sense in her head.

Matilda finally came to the Great Hall, walking slowly. She was being led by a tall woman with long, black hair and a green scarf, who had her arm around her shoulders.

Half a dozen wands popped up and pointed at her.

The woman put her arms up. “Whoa! Chill out! I’m on your side!” she said. “Seriously, how many Death Eaters are wearing a school scarf? I thought this would be a clue.”

“It’s okay,” Matilda said, her voice barely audible. “She’s Bea—Beatrice’s friend. She’s clean.”

Oliver Wood appeared behind the pair, carrying Beatrice’s body. She was dirty, but visibly not that battered. It might have been the Killing curse that got her. Penny, her older sister, raced over and held her, breaking down in tears.

Not able to help anything there, Hannah brought Matilda over to where the impromptu healers were set up.

“Matilda, I’m sorry,” she said. “The Death Eaters over there—?”

A fierce look showed through the tears on the younger girl’s face. “They won’t be hurting anyone anymore.”

“You did?” Hannah said. “But how?”

Matilda looked around absently at the rubble strewn on the floor. She stopped and thought for a minute, then said, “The same thing I did the last time I faced a murderer: threw stuff at them until they stopped fighting.”

Hannah’s eyes widened as she tried to jibe that statement with Susan’s story, and once the pieces more-or-less fell into place, she decided Susan was right: _never_ make Matilda Honey angry.

* * *

Matilda was a little out of it after that, although she wasn’t sure if it was because of what she’d already witnessed and even done, or because of how strange things soon became. 

Not long afterwards, Voldemort called a truce, asking Harry Potter to come face him directly. That ended disastrously, if not entirely unexpectedly, when Harry came back dead. And then…Matilda didn’t understand _what_ happened after that. The cavalry arrived from Hogsmeade, and as brutal as the battle had been before, the Death Eaters practically folded when reinforcements arrived. Then, when Voldemort was the only one left, Harry showed up _alive_ again, and they had a confrontation that looked more like something out of a movie. Harry was talking about things people said later he couldn’t possibly have known, claimed to be the owner of the Elder Wand, which was a literal fairy tale, and then managed to reflect Voldemort’s Killing Curse back at him.

And then it was over. Voldemort had died at sunrise, and by lunchtime, people said they already had a new Minister for Magic, one Harry Potter personally vouched for. The Death Eaters’ influence had broken nationwide in just a few hours.

Susan sat beside her at what had been the blasted-out Hufflepuff Table once the initial celebration died down. “Hey, Honey,” she said. “Sorry I zoned out on you earlier. It freaked me out seeing what you did back there. I _did_ try to help…How are you doing?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t quite feel real.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“It was horrible seeing…seeing Beatrice like that,” Matilda said. “After that, it’s like everything went mad.”

“We won, though,” said Susan.

She shrugged. “Mad in a good way, but still mad. The Elder Wand? Snape was a…a double agent or something? Not to mention Harry was supposed to be _dead_.”

“Well, I’m sure glad he’s not.”

“I know. I know,” Matilda said. “I’m happy we won…I just feel like I’m over my quota of six impossible things before breakfast.”


End file.
